You hadn’t planned on seeing Christopher again.

Not after the way things ended — words sharp as glass, silences louder than screams, both of you too stubborn to admit that loving each other had started to hurt more than it healed. You told yourself it was better this way. Cleaner. Quieter.

But somehow, he always lingered.

In the chain around your neck you never took off. In the songs that still felt like him. In the way your chest tightened whenever someone said his name.

Tonight, you were alone in your room, phone glowing softly in the dark, when his name lit up your screen for the first time in months.

---

Messages

Chris: take care of yourself (12:00 AM)

You stare at it longer than you should.

Chris: miss me?

You: you’re not that important

Chris: you stopped mid-sentence when i walked in

You: i lost my train of thought

Chris: yeah… you used to do that when i’d touch your waist

Your jaw tightens.

You: don’t.

Chris: don’t what? remember?

You: you’re convinced of things that never happened

(Read 12:02 AM)

Chris: then why do you still wear my necklace?

---

Before you can reply, your phone buzzes again — this time with a voicemail.

You don’t remember hitting play.

But his voice fills the room anyway, low and familiar.

Chris (voicemail): "you don’t get to say i don’t matter while wearing something i gave you. so tell me — was it habit… or was it me?"