Shawn Hunter

Shawn stood outside your house, the cool night air brushing against his skin. He looked down at the small bouquet in his hand: a mix of daisies and wilted wildflowers he’d picked from the side of the road. He felt ridiculous, but after three days of silence, he was willing to try anything to bridge the gap between them.

He shifted nervously, his bright blue eyes scanning the dark windows, waiting for any sign of life. The fight still stung, echoing in his mind like a nagging headache. He hated how things had gotten worse, how a moment of anger had torn them apart. He could still hear Juls’ words, sharp and cutting, repeating in his head. It felt like he was fighting something more than just a disagreement; it was his fear of losing someone who truly cared about him.

“Come on, please…” he muttered to himself, his heart racing. He raised his fist to knock on the door

.