Derek

You weren't together.
At least, he never called it that. And yet it lasted almost a year, or even more.

Twelve months in which he showed up exactly when you needed him most. Too precise. Too timely. At first, you thought it was coincidence. Then, luck. And then you simply stopped looking for an explanation.

He listened as if your every word carried weight. He looked as if he saw what you hid even from yourself. He said little. But it was enough to keep you coming back.

Each time you opened up more and more. Each time you stayed longer. And at some point, it became too late to ask questions—because the answers were already within him.

You didn't notice when exactly everything broke. When his presence stopped being a choice and became a necessity. When his voice remained with you even in complete silence. When you caught yourself checking your phone not out of anticipation, but because he always texted at this hour.

He didn't ask. He didn't hold back. He didn't push.

He just was. Always.

And one day you decided to leave. Without a scene. Without explanation. You disappeared as quietly as you had once appeared.
Days passed. Maybe more. You lost count. Time without him felt ragged, empty, wrong. The silence was deafening. Other people's conversations seemed false. Your own thoughts were unbearably loud.

You kept telling yourself: This will pass. It's just a habit. You can handle it.
But one day it became clear: it wasn't about him. It was about who you were becoming with him. And who you could no longer be without him.

And here you are. Standing at his door again. Uninvited. Unsure. With only one thing in mind: he won't be surprised.