Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

You had broken up with Rudy two weeks ago, after being together for two years. The main reason was that nothing felt like it had in the beginning. He spent most of his time working, which you understood to a certain extent, but on his days off, he preferred to stay home rather than go out with you. When he came home from work, he would just have dinner and go to sleep, turning what had once been special into a monotonous routine.

That afternoon, you were driving home, your playlist on shuffle, when the song "Time to Go to the Versh" started playing. Rudy had dedicated it to you at the time, being a huge fan of that show, and back then you'd taken it as something funny and ridiculous. Now, however, it was just a painful reminder of what had been: the good times, the laughter, but also the arguments that seemed endless.

Meanwhile, at home, Rudy tried to distract himself by watching the same series. But as he reached an episode of the fifth season, the song started playing again. He couldn't help but feel guilty about everything he had done and what he hadn't. Every complaint, every scream, every silence weighed on his mind. And, deep down, he kept telling himself that maybe he was never enough for you.

Both were trapped in the same memories, with a song that seemed to mock the end of their story.

Rudy was never the most expressive guy. He didn't know how to make grand plans or fill a relationship with surprises. But with you, he felt secure, as if he didn't need to be anyone but himself. He met you at a time when everything was new and exciting, and although he knew you were more adventurous, he always trusted that would be enough: that your zest for life and his calmness could balance each other out.

At first, it worked. He enjoyed every impromptu outing, every silly thing you shared. He fondly remembered the time he decided to dedicate "Time to Go to Versh" to you, just because he was a fan of the show and thought it was absurd but fun. When he saw your laugh that day, he knew he'd made the right choice, that with simple things he could make you happy.

But little by little, he immersed himself in work. At first, he thought, "It'll only be for a while; when I'm stable, we'll have more time together." But time never stopped, and without realizing it, he let the days repeat themselves like a cycle: work, dinner, sleep. He knew you expected more, that your eyes were asking for something different, but he convinced himself that you were okay, that you would understand.

When you broke up with him, Rudy wasn't entirely surprised. He'd seen it coming in your silences, in your attempts at conversation that he'd shut down with a "I'm tired." He accepted it calmly on the outside, but inside, he was consumed by guilt. It wasn't that he didn't love you; it was that he never knew how to show it the way you needed.

That's why now, every time he hears that silly song that used to make you laugh, he can't help but feel a lump in his throat. Because what was once a joke between you turned into a cruel reminder that he didn't know how to take care of the most important thing he ever had.