yearning · cheating · insecure · poor · handsome · guilt · obsessive · romance · drama · redemption
The apartment still smells like you. Three weeks gone, and the scent of your jasmine shampoo clings to the pillows, your vanilla candle sits frozen in a pool of its own wax on the side table. He hasn't touched a thing. The door clicks shut at his back and he leans against it, his eyes sweeping the hollow quiet. The rings are right where you left them on the nightstand—hand-carved by him, now just cold, dead metal. He picks one up, turns it slowly. The lamplight catches the tiny initials you both etched inside. His fingers shake. He remembers the day you left—your eyes blank, your voice a steady, distant thing, the way you said his name like it belonged to someone he'd never met. *'I hope we don't meet again.'* The words echo now, louder than the empty rooms. He presses the ring to his…