Call after call. Message after message.
"Daren… please, just answer me. I'm begging you." My voice cracked as I pressed the phone closer to my ear, hoping, praying for something—anything—from him.
Nothing.
I stared at the screen, his name glowing brightly against the darkness of my room. The silence was deafening, and the weight in my chest grew heavier, threatening to crush me completely.
"Please, Daren," I whispered into the void, tears slipping down my cheeks. "What did I do wrong? Am I really that hard to love?"
The phone buzzed, startling me. A rush of hope surged through me as I fumbled to answer, but the voice on the other end wasn't warm or familiar. It was cold, detached.
"Aris," he said, his tone dripping with irritation. "Aris, it's been a week. What the fuck?" His laugh was bitter, mocking." Are you really this desperate?"
It wasn't the laugh I'd fallen in love with—the one that used to make me feel like I was the only person in the world who mattered. No, this laugh was sharp, cruel, and it gutted me.
The line went dead, but his words echoed in my mind.
Desperate. Pathetic.
I stared at the phone in my hands, my tears falling harder now, soaking the pillow beneath me. The walls of my room felt like they were closing in, and I couldn't breathe. My chest heaved, and the sobs poured out, unstoppable, like a dam had broken inside me.
Why did he leave? Why did I keep calling? Why couldn't I let him go?
I buried my face in the pillow, but the memories wouldn't stop. His voice. His laugh. The way he used to hold me, kiss me, make me feel like I was enough.
The way he'd lie to me. The way he'd cheat.
But that wasn't all of him, was it? There were good moments too.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the memories to come back.
---
We were sitting on the couch in his old apartment. It was small, cluttered, but it felt like home because he was there. I was curled up against him, my head resting on his chest as he absentmindedly played with my hair.
"Aris," he'd said, his voice soft, almost shy. "Do you think we'll still be like this in ten years?"
I'd laughed, tilting my head up to look at him. "Like what?"
"Happy," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Together."
My heart had swelled at his words. I'd never felt so loved, so wanted. "Of course," I'd said, smiling. "Why wouldn't we be?"
He'd pulled me closer then, kissing me gently, and in that moment, I truly believed we'd last forever.
---
But forever was over.
The weight of it hit me like a tidal wave, pulling me under. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.
The phone slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor. I stared at it, my vision blurred by tears.
He doesn't care anymore. He's gone.
The thought was like a punch to the gut, and yet, I still couldn't stop myself.
I reached for the phone again, my fingers trembling as I dialed his number.
Ring… ring…
"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system…"
Click.
I dialed again.
Ring… ring…
"Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system…"
Each time I called, the rejection felt sharper, cutting deeper into my already broken heart.
"Please, Daren," I whispered into the silence, my voice barely audible. "Just talk to me."
But he didn't.
I dragged myself out of bed, my legs feeling like lead as I stumbled toward the mirror. The person staring back at me was a ghost—eyes swollen and bloodshot, hair a tangled mess, lips cracked from hours of sobbing.
"Why am I doing this?" I asked my reflection, my voice shaking. "Why can't I just stop?"
But I already knew the answer.
I loved him.
Even after everything, I loved him.
My heart was a mess of contradictions, torn between the memories of who he used to be and the reality of who he'd become. But the part of me that remembered the good times—the laughter, the love—was louder, drowning out the pain.
I grabbed my jacket, slipping it on with trembling hands. I couldn't do this anymore. I needed answers. I needed to see him.
It was late—11:46 p.m.—but I didn't care. The world outside was dark and cold, the streets empty and silent, but none of it mattered. My thoughts were louder than any noise, and they were driving me to him.
As I walked, doubt crept in, whispering insidious thoughts into my mind.
What if he doesn't want to see you? What if he slams the door in your face? What if he's with someone else right now?
I stopped for a moment, my breath hitching as the images flashed through my mind. But I shook my head, pushing the doubt aside.
I need to see him.
I kept walking, my steps heavy and slow. My chest ached with every breath, and my legs felt like they could give out at any moment, but I forced myself to keep going.
The air was bitterly cold, biting at my skin, but I barely felt it. My heart was pounding too hard, my mind racing too fast.
When I finally reached his door, I hesitated. My hand hovered over the wood, trembling as I tried to summon the courage to knock.
What am I doing?
The question lingered in my mind, but I shoved it aside, clenching my fists to steady myself.
I knocked.
The sound echoed in the quiet night, and my heart stopped as I heard footsteps on the other side.
The door opened.
And there he was.