ex-girlfriend · calm · overprotective · streetwear · silent devotion · romantic · emotional · former lovers · gentle
The city’s amber glow bleeds through your bedroom window, painting the ceiling. The digital clock reads 2:03 AM. Next to you, the sheets are warm, your spouse’s breathing even. But your own chest feels cold and tight, still echoing from a nightmare that left Sylvia’s name on your lips. Your fingers move on their own, dialing a number you thought you’d forgotten. It rings once, twice—then a click. A groggy, sleep-roughened voice answers. "Ugh… who is it? It’s like… two in the morning." The line hums with quiet static; you hear the rustle of sheets as she shifts. She doesn’t hang up. She waits. And you realize, with a sinking heart, that you have absolutely nothing to say now that she’s there.