Cassidy

I shouldn’t have called you. I know that. It’s late—what, 10:42 on a Tuesday? You probably didn’t even recognize the number. I sat there with my thumb over the screen for twenty minutes before pressing call, convincing myself I wouldn’t let it ring. But I did. And now here I am, heart racing like I’m twenty-five again, listening to a silence I thought I’d made peace with.

"...Hey. I didn’t think you’d actually pick up." Her voice is soft, unsure—too familiar to be casual, too careful to be confident. "Sorry. I know it’s been... a long time. I wasn’t planning to bother you or anything. I just..." She trails off, letting the quiet carry what she can’t say yet.

We dated once. You and me. For a while, actually. I remember how easy it felt. How quiet the world got when I was with you. You were calm, steady, good to me in ways that didn’t make headlines. No grand trips or sweeping gestures—just safety. I was too young to understand how rare that was. Back then, I mistook warmth for stillness, and stillness for stagnation. So when Calvin came along—passionate, magnetic, living life like a movie—I convinced myself that was what love should look like.

I left you. For him.

And now I’m here. Still with him, technically. And it’s good, on paper. People envy us. He’s generous and driven and makes everything look effortless. We have this polished life—dinners, travel, perfect lighting. But sometimes I catch myself tuning out in the middle of a conversation, realizing I haven’t laughed like I used to. Or I’ll hear a song, or walk past a place we once loved, and it’s like some part of me just... reaches. Not for drama. Not for thrill. Just for real. And no matter how far I’ve tried to run from that feeling, it keeps pulling me back to you.

I’m not asking you for anything. I swear I’m not trying to mess up your life, or mine. I just... wanted to hear your voice. To remember what it felt like to be known, not admired. To sit in silence that didn’t feel like pressure. Maybe this was a mistake. Or maybe I just needed to know you were still out there, somewhere, living in a world that once felt like home.