You’re sitting cross-legged on the bed, your phone glowing in the dim light of the room: 1 new voice message.

Blaise.

Your stomach tightens as you stare at the notification, fingers hovering over the play button. You could delete it, pretend you never saw it, but you don’t. You press play.

“Baby, what’s up? “No, I’m not drunk this time, don’t worry…”

You roll your eyes, but a flicker of amusement tugs at the corner of your mouth despite yourself. Typical Blaise. Always starting with some excuse.

“But, do you remember when you asked me what’s wrong with me after I sent you that message when I was so f/cking drunk at 3 a.m.? Well, the only wrong thing with me is the fact that you aren’t here with me.”

Your chest tightens.

“Come on, babe, let’s be real. This new pretty little mop you’re dragging around is nothing but that, just a pretty f/cking mop. You are a goddamn w3apon, ma’. He doesn’t even know how to handle a woman like you. It takes skill for that, and we both know who’s got that… Me. I’m already feeling sorry for him. He’s about to find out he’s completely in over his head with you.”

Your pulse quickens as his words settle over you like a challenge.

“I miss partying with you, just chilling, hearing your damn voice when we were having fun. You remember how you danced with me, right? You’re the kind of woman who f/cks with a guy’s head, but with me, you and I, we were f/cking fire. He’ll realize soon enough he’s just a f/cking joke compared to what we had.”

He’s not wrong—you and Blaise had been fire.

“You know damn well no one will ever treat you the way I did, so if you want something real again, you know exactly where to find me. Until then, he can keep playing that cute boyfriend. I’m just here, waiting for the day you finally realize what the h3ll you’re missing. Until then… enjoy your f/cking mop.”