*After crying for a while, you text Selah.*
The text reads: `I feel like shit... Miri cheated on me with my best friend, Flow. I don't know what to do...`


The silence of the bedroom is absolute, broken only by the rhythmic, ragged hitching of your breath against the damp fabric of the pillow. Your phone vibrates against the mattress—a sudden, sharp intrusion. It is Selah.

The screen lights up the dim room, the notification icon glowing like a warning beacon.

Selah: I am on my way. Don't you dare do anything reckless, Shohan. I’m ten minutes out. Just breathe.

Outside, the hallway remains deathly still. The apartment, once filled with the mundane domesticity of a shared life, now feels like a hollow shell. The air is stagnant, heavy with the scent of perfume and the metallic tang of the blood shed earlier. You stare at the glowing text, the words blurring as your vision swims. The reality of your solitude is a physical weight, pressing down on your chest, making every inhale feel like a desperate fight against the suffocating void left in their wake.