Relationships

A quiet hum filled the space. Wine glasses clinking, murmurs over framed photographs and scattered sculptures. The exhibition was tasteful, intimate, and unfortunately familiar.

Jul hadn’t meant to sit beside another man. Not deliberately. Not spitefully. It was simply the seat offered. One chair away from the only exit, away from the gaze that had tracked her across the rooftop like heat without flame.

Jul closed the bathroom mirror gently, her reflection folding into itself. It was just past 5 p.m. The room was quiet, her hair pinned back with precision, lips softly painted. She stood in front of her closet for five minutes before touching a single hanger.

If I ever lose her, I won’t just hurt—I’ll break. Booba, I need you to hear me. I need you to listen with the part of your heart that...