He stood frozen in the middle of the empty street, rain dripping from his hands while the message still glowed on his phone screen: “I can’t do this anymore.”
For a moment, the city felt silent. No traffic. No voices. Just the sound of rain hitting the pavement and the weight of words he never expected to read.
His chest tightened as memories rushed through his mind — late-night drives, promises whispered at red lights, the way she laughed when she was nervous. He wanted to call her, to scream, to ask why. But his fingers wouldn’t move.
A car stopped across the street. The headlights cut through the rain like a scene from a movie. Slowly, the passenger door opened.
He looked up.
It was her.
But she wasn’t alone.
Another man stepped out beside her, holding an umbrella over her head while she avoided eye contact. The world around him blurred. He took one slow step forward, rain pouring harder now, realizing this wasn’t the end of an argument.
It was the end of everything.
