Boyfriend — The

Alex had been dating Sam for eight months when he first noticed the crack. It wasn’t in the ceiling or the foundation of his apartment—it was in Sam’s laugh. That familiar, warm sound that used to fill the room now had a thin, hollow ring to it, like a bell with a hidden flaw.

He closed the door softly behind him.

“I’m seeing someone new,” Sam blurted, then winced. “Sorry, that’s—I didn’t mean to just—” The Boyfriend

The breakup wasn’t dramatic. No yelling, no thrown dishes, no storming out. Alex simply gathered his things—his hoodie from the back of the chair, a toothbrush from the bathroom, the small succulent he’d brought over three months ago. At the door, he paused.

“I was,” Alex admitted. “But I think you were right. We were good for a while, and then we weren’t. That’s not a crime.” Alex had been dating Sam for eight months

Then, slowly, the silence stopped feeling like absence and started feeling like space. Room to breathe. Room to notice the things he’d neglected: his own friends, his half-finished novel, the guitar in the corner that had gathered dust.

“Talk to me,” Alex said one evening, sitting on the edge of Sam’s couch. The rain drummed against the glass, steady and insistent. He closed the door softly behind him

Sam’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we’re not right for each other.”