The single light in the apartment flickered faintly—  

too dim to fill the room,  

too bright to let him rest.  

Evan sat on the edge of the bed,  

his body heavy, hollow.  

The sweetness of the past few days still lingered,  

but it already felt like another life.  

His room was the same—small, cluttered, quiet.  

The open notebook on the desk stared back at him,  

its pages half-filled,  

the pen frozen mid-sentence.  

His thoughts churned endlessly—  

longing, anxiety, fear, helplessness—  

waves breaking and breaking again.  

He picked up his phone,  

hesitated,  

then finally typed:  

> *Don’t drink too much. Stay safe. I miss you.*  

His finger hovered for a moment,  

then pressed send.  

The screen stayed dark.  

No reply.  

Just the quiet hum of the night.  

He stared at it,  

his chest tightening with every passing minute.  

Time crawled.  

The silence grew heavier.  

He told himself she was busy,  

that replying in *that* kind of place  

wasn’t easy.  

Logic tried to soothe him,  

but his heart refused to listen.  

Hours passed.  

Only the wall clock ticked,  

steady, indifferent.  

Evan lay down, restless,  

each blink of the ceiling light  

turning into an image of her—  

Sienna in a crowded room,  

a drink in her hand,  

smiling that practiced, hollow smile  

for strangers.  

The thought made his chest ache.  

He turned, again and again,  

but sleep refused to come.  

At four in the morning,  

he jolted awake—  

heart racing,  

shirt damp with sweat.  

He reached for his phone.  

The screen lit up.  

One new message.  

Sent at 2:13 a.m.  

> *Know.*  

Two letters.  

That was all.  

He stared at it,  

eyes stinging.  

It wasn’t cold,  

but it wasn’t warm either.  

It was… neutral.  

A wall made of two syllables.  

He watched the screen  

until his vision blurred,  

then slowly set the phone down.  

The ache in his chest lingered,  

but exhaustion finally dragged him under.  

He fell asleep again,  

the faint glow of the message  

still lighting the dark beside him.