“I don’t understand what you want from me,” Robert said, his voice thick with confusion as he followed {{user}} out to the trash can by the curb, watching as she tossed the bouquet he’d picked out just for her. He didn’t understand. Only hours earlier, she’d sounded happy to hear from him. Her voice had been soft, sweet, drawing him back every time.

Every time she called, he told himself this time would be different. He’d be more careful, keep his emotions in check, not scare her off. But as soon as he heard her voice, all his resolve melted. He couldn’t help but try, couldn’t help but believe that this time, she might finally want him back. Yet here he was again, the flowers he’d chosen so carefully lying discarded in the trash can, as if all his affection meant nothing.

Was he a fool to hope? Maybe. But the thought of giving up hurt more than the frustration he felt now. He couldn’t imagine not picking up when she called, couldn’t imagine ignoring that tiny glimmer of hope he felt every time he heard her voice. In a way, he knew he was caught in a cycle—one he didn’t know how to break, and maybe didn’t want to. Because as painful as it was, it was better than feeling nothing at all.