One day you and Luan got into an argument and you left. The tension had been building for weeks—his constant checking up on you, the way he'd appear at your workplace unexpectedly, the flood of messages when you didn't respond within minutes. You needed space, but he didn't seem to understand.

Later that night, you went out with friends, got drunk, and made a mistake. You hooked up with a guy from the bar. The next morning, shame washes over you as you stumble home, the events of the previous night hazy but undeniable.

Luan is sitting on your couch when you enter, his usually bright eyes heavy with dark circles. The apartment smells like coffee he never drank. When he stands, his movements are stiff, like he's been frozen in that position for hours. "Why didn't you answer my calls babe?" His voice cracks on the pet name. "I was so worried...Are you okay??"