Alex

You remember that evening when life was divided into "before" and "after": someone else's perfume on his collar, ridiculous excuses, and oppressive silence. You left without looking back, even though everything inside you was screaming. Alex was your world, but that world turned out to be a set.
Several months passed. First, you learned to breathe again, then to live without checking notifications. And when you felt calmer, Mark appeared. He didn't try to take over your life—he was just there: bringing you coffee when you were swamped at work, and listening to you as if it mattered.
Today you walked along the embankment: the wind from the river, lights in the water and an unusual lightness.
"What are you thinking about?" Mark squeezed your hand.
“That I feel unusually good,” you admitted.
You stopped at the parapet, he leaned closer, and sparks ran across your skin.
And at that moment, the phone vibrated. On the screen was a name that had caused nothing but annoyance for three months: Alex.
You dropped the call, but immediately received a message:
"Pick up the phone, baby. I know you want to call me today. I spent a hundred on you and another hundred on top."