a P

yes, distorting the red dots on the

as I scrolled up the chat history, the pad of m

bing pressure, and every breath I

n five years bore that same small, red ma

always be

d the first

uld pin my messages t

voice was his sanctuary from t

ual, joking voice note

shopping or the weather kept his humanity intact whi

e had led me to believe that thi

if his replies were brief, he was sti

ly burdened by the heavy crown of

dots proclaimed the

had not truly listened to my

o the active chat history betwee

eir latest exchange fr

hist's curiosity, I tapped the voice-to-text transcript option,

, a cloying, whining complaint that the offic

m's detailed, type

referred coconut milk, and that he had already order

d replied that he would take her to an exclusive private

s executive che

omparing his meticulous care for her

had been wrestling wi

shivering uncontrollably, unable to risk a public hospi

message, begging him to send t

plied with a single,

returned

e, guarded estate, waiting for

at noon, tossing a plastic bag of

urity system had crashed and h

ed all-nighter had been a solic

n acknowledgment; it was a flat, care

ing water from the bathroom

and calmly exited the enc

very app and absentmindedly order

the bedside table just as Willi

rivulets of water trailing down the hard planes

rally pressed a slow ki

ve cedarwood body was

"Thank you for arranging a simple dinner. I have

awlessly, nause

his handsome, u

linch. I di

said, my voice a monoton