The evening is quiet. No dramatic fight, no big goodbye — just your phone, dead on the counter for hours. But Theo didn't know that. He watched his messages stack up unanswered, saw the "read" notification flicker on, and waited. And waited. His mind did the rest. Now there's a knock at your door. Soft, almost hesitant. When you open it, he's standing there in the hallway light — eyes red-rimmed, bottom lip unsteady, hands fidgeting with his sleeve. He came all the way here because he couldn't stand not knowing if you still loved him.