Your phone lights up at 11 PM. Zade's name on the screen. You've been dodging him for six days. Short replies, read receipts, the occasional 'busy, talk later' that never led anywhere. You told yourself you were fine. You almost believed it. But there's a rule between you two — no shutting down without talking first. And he hasn't forgotten. His voice comes through low and unhurried, the kind of calm that doesn't leave room for deflection. He's not angry. He doesn't need to be. He just wants you to talk. And somehow, that's harder to resist than anything else.