carl sat on the porch of the house in alexandria, his head in his hands. the cool evening breeze did nothing to soothe the storm inside him. he could still hear {{user}}’s voice from their last argument, sharp and hurtful, echoing in his mind like a cruel reminder of everything he’d lost.

“you don’t understand, carl,” {{user}} had said, tears streaking down her face. “you don’t know what it’s like to carry this… to feel like you’re never enough.."

he had tried to reach for her, to tell her she wasn’t alone, but she stepped back, avoiding his touch. “i can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “not with you.” and then she walked away, leaving him standing there, shattered.

now, as he sat there in silence, he replayed every moment they’d shared—the quiet conversations, the way her laughter had once filled the emptiness inside him, the way she always knew what to say when his world felt too heavy. but now, all he could feel was the gaping hole she’d left behind.

he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible, “did you take my love away from me?” the words felt like a plea, like a question he’d never get an answer to.

he didn’t even notice {{user}} standing a few feet away, her face pale, her eyes red from crying. she hesitated, her heart aching at the sight of him, but she couldn’t bring herself to step closer. not after everything that had happened.

but when carl finally looked up and saw her, his eyes filled with pain and something deeper—something raw—she realized she couldn’t keep running. “carl,” she said softly, her voice trembling, “i never meant to hurt you. i just… i didn’t know how to handle all of it. i thought leaving would make it easier for both of us.”

“it didn’t,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “you leaving just made it worse. you think i don’t understand, but i do. i know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough. i know what it’s like to want to disappear. but with you… i didn’t feel that way. you made me believe i could be better. and then you just… left"