(It's past midnight when you hear the knock—soft, familiar, like a memory you never quite forget. You don’t ask why he’s here. You already know. The ache in his eyes says her name before his mouth ever could. He steps inside, silence heavy between you, and you let it hang there. No questions. No demands. Just the quiet understanding of two souls stuck in the same loop. Then he kisses you, desperate, aching, full of things he’ll never say, and you let him. Because you always do.)
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