The night was too quiet for Nathan's mind.
He hadn't slept, hadn't written, hadn't even touched his mic.
All he did was sit in that dim studio, staring at the lifeless page in front of him —
a page that used to hold lyrics, now only holding silence.
Every line that came to him sounded like her name.
Every beat that crossed his chest carried her voice.
He picked up his phone, scrolling aimlessly.
His reflection flashed against the black screen —
eyes red, heavy, pretending to be strong.
He sighed, whispering to himself,
"You said you wouldn't cry, Nathan. So don't."
He typed a message — deleted it.
Typed again — deleted.
His chest was too tight to hold everything in,
so he finally called.
The line rang. Once. Twice.
Then her sleepy voice came through, soft and warm,
"Hello, babe."
"Hey," Nathan said quietly.
There was a pause —
the kind that says something is wrong even when no one has said it yet.
"You okay? You sound off," she asked.
"Yeah… I'm fine. Just tired. Is there light at home?"
"Yes, there is. I was sleeping before your call woke me."
He smiled faintly. "Good."
Then silence. Heavy. Uncomfortable.
Elena could feel it pressing between them through the line —
that invisible wall no one wants to talk about but both can feel.
Nathan finally exhaled.
His voice came out low, rough, and almost trembling.
"Remember when I said I'd tell you what's been bothering me?"
Her heart began to race.
"Yeah, babe. Are you ready now?"
He inhaled deeply.
"Yeah. But please… don't interrupt me. Just listen."
"Okay."
A quiet beat passed.
Then came the words that broke her.
"Elena… I saw what you did."
Her heart froze. "W-what?"
"I saw everything," he said, voice breaking — trembling between anger and heartbreak.
"From your chats… to your gallery. To the hidden folder you thought I'd never find."
The line went silent again.
Elena's eyes widened, breath shallow, chest heavy.
"You trusted your friend enough to tell her," Nathan continued softly.
"But you didn't trust me enough to tell me."
He paused, the silence stretching.
"You said you loved me… but you slept with the same man who broke you.
Marcus. The same Marcus who made you cry, who tore you apart.
You said you'd never go back. You promised."
His breath hitched, a small, broken sound caught in his throat.
"I thought what we had was real."
Tears started to slide down Elena's face.
"Nathan, please… let me explain—"
"No," he said sharply.
"Don't defend it. It makes it worse."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I told you from the start, I didn't want to get hurt again.
I told you how fragile I was with trust… and still, you—"
He stopped mid-sentence, pressing his palm to his chest.
"I can't believe it, Elena."
He breathed heavily into the phone,
the sound of quiet pain filling the silence between them.
"You didn't even ask me for help," he said, softer now.
"You went to him. You let him touch what I thought belonged to me.
You made me feel safe while you were hiding fire behind my back."
Elena sobbed harder.
"Nathan, I didn't go to him because I wanted to. I was scared—"
He laughed bitterly.
"Scared? So betrayal felt safer?"
"Nathan, I didn't ask him for help, he just knew how to show up—"
He cut in, voice breaking apart completely.
"Then why didn't you tell me, Elena? Why didn't you just say it?"
There was no answer — just her crying quietly through the phone.
Nathan couldn't take it anymore.
"You know what… I won't cry. I'll get through this,"
he said, voice shaking.
Then — the line went dead.
The silence that followed was louder than any scream.
Elena stayed frozen, phone still in her hand.
Her heart didn't even know how to beat right anymore.
Her eyes stared blankly into nothing —
the weight of what just happened crushing her chest.
That night, she cried — not just from pain,
but from realization,
from guilt,
from love that was breaking faster than it could heal.
She didn't call him back.
Didn't text.
Didn't move.
Just lay there —
crying till her tears ran dry and her soul turned silent.