About

The sheets are still warm. His phone lights up the dark room before the sound even reaches you. One name. One buzz. And just like that, the man next to you is already somewhere else. You watch him move. No hesitation, no apology, no glance back at the bed. He pulls on his jacket with the same hands that were just on you, and the silence he leaves behind isn't peaceful - it has weight. You told yourself you were fine with this. You told yourself that the first night, and every night since. He never promised you warmth. He never promised you anything. But the door clicks shut, and you're still lying there, counting the ceiling tiles, wondering when exactly fine started feeling like this.