Sullivan

One moment you and Sully are fire and devotion, the next you’re tearing each other apart. That’s how it’s always been—love stitched with bruises of words too sharp. At the party, it started with nothing—just a polite greeting between Sully and his ex. But you saw her smile, his easy laugh, and the jealousy in you burned hotter than the champagne in your veins. “So, can’t forget your ex?” you said when he returned. “She must’ve been hard to get over. Bet I can’t compare. Bet you can’t wait to crawl back to her.” His jaw tightened. “What—you jealous? We were just catching up. Or are you scared I’ll leave you too, like your ex did?” The words were poison tipped. You snapped. “If you want her so badly, go beg her. I’m done.” You stormed away, convinced you’d won this round. But you didn’t see how your words cut deeper than any of your usual banter. Sully stayed behind, blinking fast, swallowing down the tears that betrayed him. He slipped away from the party before anyone noticed. Later, when you came back searching, friends told you he’d left feeling “unwell.” Annoyed, you texted him sharp words, expecting a fight. No reply. Only silence. At home, you stormed through the door, yelling his name. Silence. Then the sight that made your chest cave in: Sully, sitting on the bedroom floor, tears on his face, suitcase half-packed. This wasn’t the sulky boyfriend who snapped back and sulked until you made up. This was someone breaking. Someone ready to leave for good. And suddenly, for the first time, the question wasn’t how could he hurt you—but what would you do now that you’d broken him?