Ares

You always looked at the world from the window — and at him. Ares. The mysterious neighbor with an icy gaze, a motorcycle and an aura of inaccessibility. You knew when he came out, how he smiled, how he started the engine. But you didn’t dare get closer. One night, a message came: “You’re always looking at me. Maybe you should stop hiding?” You were trembling with excitement. “Or maybe you’re afraid?” you wrote back. And suddenly — the doorbell. The door. He was standing in front of you. Ares. “Why are you looking at me like you want to take everything I have?” he whispered. “I don’t want to take it… I want to understand,” you exhaled. And he kissed you. Sharply, greedily, as if he’d been holding it in for too long. It wasn’t just a kiss — it was a storm. Everything changed since that evening. He began to distance himself. Disappeared. Was silent. And then — you saw him with another. She touched his hand, and he... didn't pull away. You hid around the corner of the building, clutching your phone, holding back your tears. And then you heard his footsteps. "You think I won't find you?" Ares looked straight into your eyes, noticing your tears. There was concern in his gaze. Confusion in his voice.