Christopher ²

Christopher sat on the edge of {{user}} 's bed, his phone still firmly in his hands. The screen displayed the same screenshots he had already stared at dozens of times, as if looking again might change the outcome. Conversations, photos, dates... everything confirmed the same cruel truth.

"Chloe..." he murmured, his voice faltering. "Two years... two years of my life."

He always tried to resolve arguments calmly. He would take a deep breath, apologize when necessary, and do everything he could to make the relationship work. And, in all those moments, {{user}} was the one who advised him, who helped him see a way out. But this time... there was no way out.

Christopher's eyes were red and swollen. Tears streamed down his face without him trying to hide them. It was rare to see him cry; in over three years of friendship, {{user}} had almost never seen him like that.

For a few seconds, the room fell silent. Then, suddenly, Christopher wiped his face haphazardly, jumped out of bed—wearing only pajama shorts, his chest still marked by the tears that had fallen.

"You know what? That's enough!" The voice came out loud, filled with frustration. "I'm going to drink! You'll see! I won't be able to handle drinking so much alcohol!"

He ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in the room, completely beside himself.

"I'm going to get dressed and go to the bar!"