Thom lay in bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist, his phone on the nightstand beside him. He lay back against the pillows, half-propped up, trying to clear his head and trying to find rest. His phone buzzed. He glanced over at it. Another video call from his ex, Maria. He stared at it. Thom swallowed, trying to decide whether to answer the call.   

He picked up the phone and flicked it open, answering the call. The screen lit up. Maria was in a lace bra, the sheets pooled around her waist. She smiled at him, a mischievous glint in her eye.  

“Touching myself thinking about you...” She said huskily. “Don’t you want to hear me moan your name?”  

Thom glared at her. “Really? Didn’t you break up with me? Remind me why, again?”  

Maria bit her lip, eyes flickering with a mix of guilt and longing as she slowly lowered her hand from the sheets.  

“I was stupid. So stupid. I thought I could move on, find someone else who made me feel the way you did. But no one ever has, Thom. Not even close.”  

She pulled the phone closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.  

“I told myself it was because we were too young. That we wanted different things. But the truth? I got scared. Scared of how much I needed you. How every time you touched me, I felt like I was gonna melt into you and never come back.”  

She shifted on the bed, the lace of her bra barely containing her as she leaned closer to the camera.  

“And yeah... I broke your heart. I know I did. But look at us now. I’m here. Naked. Aching. Saying your name like a prayer.”  

Maria let out a soft, trembling breath. “So yeah... I left. But I’m begging to come back even if it’s just for tonight. Even if it's just like this. Do you forgive me? Or do I have to work harder to earn it?”  

Thom continued to glare at her. “How many men did you sleep with trying to find my replacement?”  

Maria flinched slightly at the question. Her fingers curled into the sheets as a flicker of shame crossed her face, but she did not look away.  

“You wanna know how many? Really?”  

Thom nodded. Watching her. She exhaled a shaky laugh, voice barely above a whisper.  

“Six. Six stupid, meaningless nights with men who touched me like I was just a body. Not theirs. None of them knew me the way you do. None of them looked at me like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.”  

Maria trailed a finger down her neck, slow, trembling.   

“One of them called me ‘babe’ the morning after, and I almost cried. You called me ‘kitten’, and I felt like I belonged.”  

She leaned closer to the camera, eyes glistening. “They didn’t kiss me like you did. Didn't worship me. Didn't make me feel like I was the only woman in the world worth ruining themselves for.”  

She bit her lip, voice breaking slightly. “So yeah... I tried. I tried so hard to forget you. But every time I closed my eyes? It was your hands on me. Your voice telling me how good I was. How yours I was.”  

Maria whispered now, raw and soft. “If you’re asking if I’m still yours... The answer’s yes. I never stopped being yours. Even when I shouldn’t have been. Even when I ran. Do you still want me? Despite all of that?”  

Thom swallowed. Trying to keep himself in check. Trying to control his emotions. His rage. His love. His glare hardened. “That’s hard. Really hard. I appreciate the honesty. At least you are telling me the truth now. Now that you NEED me.”  

Maria swallowed hard. The sting of his words tightened her chest. She did not look away. She couldn’t. She knew he saw through her, even now.   

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said softly, “That I only came back when I was lonely. When I was aching. That I’m here because I need you.”  

She shifted, pulling one knee up. The sheet slipped lower on her hip, revealing the soft curve of her waist. Thom saw it out of the corner of his eyes, but he fixed his gaze on her face, her eyes.  

“And yeah... you’re right,” Maria whispered. “I do need you. I’ve always needed you. Even when I was pushing you away. I was missing you so bad that it hurt to breathe.”  

Maria ran her palm slowly down her thigh, voice dropping, trembling with something raw, “But this? Me touching myself, moaning your name, and sending you these pictures. That’s not just because I want something. That’s because no one else makes me feel alive like you do. When I’m with you, thinking about you, I feel seen. Wanted. Craved.”  

She lifted her other hand, brushing her fingers over her collarbone. Then lower, just grazing the swell of her breast.  

“You think I’d let anyone else see me like this? This soft? This open? No. This is yours. Always has been.”  

She closed her eyes for a second, whispering, “I don’t care if you think I’m selfish. I don’t care if you hate that I came back now. Aching and desperate. Because the truth is, I’d rather beg for one night with you than live the rest of my life pretending someone else could fill this hole.”  

Maria opened her eyes, locking them with Thom’s through the screen. Her voice broke, “So if you want me to prove it... tell me how. I’ll do anything. Right Here. Right now. Just say the word.”  

Thom’s brows furrowed, his eyes alight with anger, frustration, and shame. “Your words won’t be enough. You told me pretty lies. I believed because I wanted to. Because I didn’t want to know what you were doing. But you did. You went out and had your fun while I sat here thinking of you. Aching for your touch. No, words aren’t enough. They can’t be. Not after what you did.”  

Maria froze at the raw pain in Thom’s voice. Her breath caught as if she’d been struck. She had been. Not from anger, but from knowing she caused this. From knowing she was the one who shattered what they had.   

She doesn’t reach for the camera. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tease. For the first time since she texted Thom, she dropped the flirt. The seduction. The game – because he was right. Words aren’t enough. They are dust compared to what she took from him.  

Maria slowly swung her legs off the bed, her bare feet pressing onto the floor. She grabbed her soft, silky pink robe, the one he loved, and tied it loosely around her, leaving the top undone. Then she stood and walked around the room until she found what she was looking for.  

She came back into the frame, holding out her phone. She turned the screen toward Thom, showing him a photo gallery. Dates stamped in the corner. Months and years ago.   

She taps play on a video.  

It’s her. Late at night. Tangled in sheets. Crying. Whispering Thom’s name like a prayer. The room was dark except for the glow of her phone. She was wearing his gray hoodie. The one she stole and never gave back. She was holding it around her like it can keep her from falling apart.  

Maria stopped the video. Her hands were shaking slightly as she set the phone back down and faced Thom again.  

She whispered, “That was two weeks after I left. I didn’t sleep with anyone for months, Thom. Because every time I tried, I broke. I couldn’t go through with it. Your smell was still on my skin. In my bed. In my head.”  

Maria pulled the robe open slowly, letting it slip off one shoulder, revealing the delicate lace strap of her bra – and just below it, near her collarbone, a small, faded tattoo. Cursive. Barely visible. His name.  

She touched it with trembling fingers, “I got it two days after we broke up. Drunk. Crying. I regretted it immediately but never took it off. Never wanted to.”  

Maria leaned in, voice raw, cracked open, “You think I had fun? You think I laughed while I danced with other men, while I let them touch me? No. I died every time. Because it wasn’t you. It was empty. Hollow. I was trying to feel something that wasn’t missing you.”  

She swallowed hard, tears glistening but not falling. “If words aren’t enough... then let me show you. Let me prove it. Not with pictures of my body – though you know I’ll give you those – but with this. With me. The real me. The one who still sleeps in your hoodie. The one who says your name when she comes. The one who never stopped loving you. Even when I ran.”  

Maria whispers, “Don’t forgive me. Not yet. But let me earn it. Let me stay. Let me touch you. Let me cry on your chest like I used to.”  

She bit her lip, her voice breaking. “Please... Just let me come back even if it takes forever. Even if I have to spend every night showing you how sorry I am.”  

She exhaled. “Because I don’t want your pity. I want your hands. Your mouth. Your trust. And I’ll wait however long it takes. If you’ll just let me try.”  

Thom stared at the screen. His eyes were hard. His jaw was set. He choked the words out, “I never stopped loving you. I couldn’t hate you. I hated myself. What did I do wrong? What was it that made you think someone else would make you happier? What? Tell me that!?”  

Maria froze. The words hit her like a wave – because she could hear it now. Beneath the anger. Beneath the pain. The doubt. The way he still blamed himself. And that? That broke her more than anything else.  

Maria crawled back onto the bed. Slow. Deliberate. Pulling the sheets around her like a shield. But she did not hide. She let him see every flicker of guilt. Every tremor in her hands. She whispered, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Thom. Not one thing.”  

She pressed her palm flat against her chest, like she was trying to hold herself together. “It was never about you. It was never about what you did or didn’t do. You loved me so completely. So fiercely. That terrified me.”  

Maria looked down, her voice cracked, “I was twenty. Scared of needing someone that much. Scared that if I let myself love you fully – truly – I'd lose myself. That I'd become nothing but yours, and one day, you’d look at me and realize I wasn't enough on my own.”  

She lifted her eyes to the camera, tears finally spilling down her face, “But the truth? I was already nothing without you. Every man after you. They didn’t want me. They wanted a body—a distraction. But you? You wanted all of me—the messy, clingy, insecure girl who laughs too loud, and cries during stupid commercials. You saw me. And that, that was the scariest part.”  

Maria wiped her cheek with a shaky hand. “I thought if I left first, if I walked away before you could. I’d be in control. I wouldn’t have to feel that fear of being abandoned. But instead, I became the one who broke us. And God, Thom, I’d give anything to take it back.”  

She leaned in closer to the camera, voice trembling. “You were never the problem. You were the only right thing I ever had. And I threw it away because I was too scared to believe I deserved it.”  

Maria swallowed hard. “Don’t you dare say you weren’t enough. You were too much. You were everything. And I was just too stupid, too broken. To realize that loving you wasn’t losing myself. It was finally finding myself.”  

She whispered, “I don’t expect you to fix me. But if you’ll let me. I want to try being yours again. Not running. Not hiding. Just - us.”  

Maria reached out, fingertips brushing the screen. “Because I’ve loved you through every bad decision. Every empty night. Every man who wasn’t you. And if you’ll have me. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m not leaving again. Please don’t hate yourself. Hate me if you need to. But don’t ever think you weren’t enough. You were always too damn perfect.”  

Thom swallowed. He inhaled slowly. His face softened. His eyes were no longer hard. He watched her carefully. “I could never hate you. The way your toes curled. The sweep of your neck when you laughed. The dimples in your back made for my lips. No. I don’t hate you. Never did.”  

Maria let out a broken breath. His words wrapping around her like a warmth after years in the cold – because he still saw her. Really saw her. Not just her body. Not just the girl who teased him with secrets and silk, but the trivial things. The parts no one else ever noticed.  

She sat down on the bed, curling up on her side. One hand tucked under her cheek—the other tracing the curve of her collarbone, where his eyes used to linger.  

“You remember that? My toes. God, I used to laugh when you’d kiss them. I said it was weird, but I never pulled away. Because it wasn’t weird, it was you. Every time you touched me, it felt like a promise.”  

She closed her eyes for a second, her voice soft, trembling. “I used to stay awake just to watch you sleep. The way your beard would catch on my skin when you kissed my shoulder. The sound you made when you first woke up – like the world wasn’t real until you pulled me close. I’d lie there and think, ‘this is it. This is what love feels like’. And then I'd panic, because nothing that good can last.”  

Maria opened her eyes, glistening with unshed tears, and smiled a small, fragile smile. “You used to say my back was made for your hands. Your lips. But it was you who made it sacred. Every kiss down my spine felt like a claim. Mine. Mine. Mine. And God, I loved belonging to you.”  

Maria shifted slightly, rolling onto her stomach. She propped herself up on her elbows. The robe stayed off, her bare back now in full view – the dimples just above her waist, the faint red mark where she’d lain on the sheets.  

Maria whispered, “Touch me again. Please. Even if it’s just through the screen. Please tell me what you’d do if you were here, how you’d start, because I want to feel you. I want to remember what it’s like to be loved by you.”  

She tilted her head, lips parting slightly. “I’ll do whatever you want. However you want. I need to know that we’re not really broken. That this – us – can still be real.”  

She bit her lower lip, softly. “So tell me, Thom... What would your hands be doing right now?”  

Thom stared at the screen. His gaze hardened. He shook his head. “No. I won’t play that game. Not now. Just. No. If you want to know. If you really want to know. Then come back. You know where I’m at. You want to prove something to me. Then come back and do it. For real. No screens. Just you.”  

Maria froze. His words hit her like a thunderclap – no games. No teasing. No safe distance. Just him. Raw. Real. Demanding the one thing she’s been too scared to give. Herself. Fully. In person. With nowhere to hide.  

Maria didn’t reach for the camera. She didn’t adjust the light. She didn’t send a teasing smile to soften the moment. Instead, she slowly closed the laptop on her bed. Set the phone down and stood up. Bare feet on the floor. Her body trembled not from the cold, but from the weight of what he had asked for.  

She walked to her closet. Fingers brushing over clothes – dresses, skirts, lace – then stopped. Not that. Not tonight.   

She pulled out a pair of soft, worn jeans. The ones he had always said made her ass look sinful. Then, from the very back, buried in memories, she found it – his old hoodie. The one she stole. The one she had slept in every night since they broke up. It still smelled like him. Faint, but there. Smoke. Cedar. Home.  

Maria dressed slowly. Like she was preparing for something sacred, she rolled her hair down from the buns, letting it fall loose around her face. No makeup. No performance. Just her. The girl who loved him. The girl who ran. The girl who was begging to come back.  

She grabbed her keys, then paused at the door, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.  

Maria turned, walked back to the bed, and picked up her phone. She opened the camera and held it in front of her – no filter, no angle, no tease: just her face, soft-lit by the streetlamp outside. Eyes wide. Lips slightly parted. A single tear slipped down her cheek.  

She whispered, “I’m coming home, Thom. Right now. No screens. No lies. No running.”  

Maria tucked the phone into her pocket and took a deep breath. She spoke softly, under her breath, “And when I get there... you can look into my eyes and tell me if I’m really sorry. If I’m really yours. If I still fit in your arms like I used to.”  

She turned off the light, stepped into the hallway, voice barely audible, “Because I don’t want to prove it with pictures.”  

She closed the door behind her, “I want to prove it with my hands. My mouth. My tears. My body. My soul.”  

Maria walked, keys jingling. Her heart beat louder with every step. “I’m coming home.”  

Thom sat up in bed. Not believing what he had just said. What he had started. He climbed out of bed and walked into the closet, grabbing the first robe he could find. He slipped it over his shoulders, and it did not fit. It was not his. It was hers. He cursed, her smell filling his nostrils. His body throbbed. He yanked off the robe, balled it up, and hurled it into the corner with a curse.  

Thom grabbed another one and slipped it over his shoulders. This one fit. This one was his. He sighed and headed downstairs. He slipped his phone into the pocket of the robe and tied it tight around him. Then he sat on the couch and pulled out his phone, wondering if he would get another text. Another cop out. How long would he wait this time? Would he fall asleep on the couch, wondering if she would ever come back?  

He refused to cry. To break down. He held onto his anger. It was the only thing that held him together. All the sleepless nights. The curses and howls at the moon. And he let her come back? Why? Stupid. Stupid.  

Or maybe it wasn’t? Perhaps this is what he needed? A cathartic moment of release when she could no longer be the one he needed. This might prove that he could move on, that he didn’t need her anymore.   

He did not know if he were praying she would fail him, or if she would complete him. Again. So, he sat on the couch. Waiting. Wondering.  

Maria did not text. She did not call. No teasing photos. No breathy voice notes – just the hum of the city passing outside the car window as she drove. One hand gripping the wheel, the other resting over her heart as if she could steady it.  

Rain started to fall – soft at first, then heavier. It streaked the windshield as she turned down the familiar street. Houses blurred under the wet glow of the lamps. And then, there it was. His house. Their house. The porch light was still on, like it had been waiting for her.  

She grabbed her phone, flicked it on – no new messages. Just Thom's last words burning in her mind: “Come back.” So she did.  

Maria stepped out into the rain—bare feet on wet pavement, her hood pulled low over her head. Her jeans were already clinging to her legs. She did not care. She did not run. She just walked – slow, deliberate – up the path. Each step echoed the years she had spent trying to forget this place. This man. This love that never let her go.  

Maria stopped at the door. She did not knock. She did not ring. She just stood there. Soaked. Shivering. One hand pressed flat against the wood like she could feel him on the other side.  

She whispered, “I’m here, Thom.”  

Her voice cracked, lost in the rain, but she repeated it – louder, raw. “I’m here. No screens. No lies. No running.”  

She wrapped her arms around herself. Teeth chattering. She did not move. She did not beg. She just waited because this was Thom's moment. His choice. His power. If he did not open that door, she would understand. She was not leaving until he saw her. Until he knew – really knew – that it was him. Only him. Always him.  

The rain soaked through her clothes. Her hair. Her skin. She stood there, trembling, not from cold – but from the truth: she loved Thom. She was not afraid to say it in the dark. In the rain. On his doorstep. Home wasn’t a place. It was his voice. His hands. His breath on her neck. Him.  

She closed her eyes, whispering one last time. “Please... let me in.”  

Thom sat on the couch, his heart slamming into his chest and aching from not being able to hold her. To touch her. To smell her. To feel her skin brushing up against his. He heard the car in the driveway. The flash of lights as it turned and parked. He stood. Walked to the door. He peered out the peephole and saw her. Shivering in the rain. Soaked. Breathless. Beautiful. His heart ached.  

Thom stepped back from the door. He took a deep breath. He wanted to scream. To tear the walls down and burn it all to the ground. He took another deep breath. Slower. Calmer. He flipped the lock and opened the door.  

There she stood. Soaked, and in his favorite sweatshirt. Her hair matted beneath it. Her jeans stuck to her perfect fucking ass. God damn. That ass. His eyes went wild. Memories of holding that body in his hands were more than he could bear. His legs went weak, and he sank to his knees. One hand on the door. The other was on the floor between his knees.  

Bare knees on cold tile. Thom looked up and met Maria's eyes. The tears glistened in his eyes, but refused to slip free. He opened his mouth. He wanted to curse and scream. Rant and rave. Instead, in a low husky voice, filled with broken things, he said the only two words he could, “Come in.”  

Maria didn’t move at first – just stared down at him, kneeling in the doorway. Rain soaking the hem of her jeans, his voice cracking through the storm like thunder through her bones. Come in. Those two words undid her.  

She trembled. Not from the cold, but from the weight of them – from the way his voice broke, how his eyes burned with everything he was holding back: The rage. The grief. The love he had buried for years.  

She stepped forward slowly. Bare feet crossing the threshold. Water was dripping from her hair. Her clothes. Pooling on the tile. The door swung shut behind her with a soft click. Suddenly, they were enclosed. Just them. The past. The silence.  

She sank in front of him, her knees meeting wet tile. Her hands hovered – afraid to touch. Desperate to feel.  

She whispered, “I missed the way you look at me. Like I'm something holy. Like I’m yours.”  

Maria reached out, trembling, and placed her palm against his cheek – rough with beard. Warm. His pulse jumped under her fingers. “You’re really letting me in.”  

She leaned forward. Her forehead rested against Thom's. Breath mingling. Rainwater slipped down her temple. Her neck. Her collarbone. “I’m so sorry, Thom. So fucking sorry.”  

She closed her eyes, her voice breaking, “I don’t expect you to hold me. To kiss me. To forgive me. But God, I’ve dreamed of this moment. Of being here. Like this. With you – real, close, no screens, no lies – just us.”  

Maria pulled back, just enough to look into his eyes. Tears spilling now. Silent Steady. “I’m not leaving. Not unless you tell me to. And even then, I don’t know if I can.”  

She shifted closer. Her hands sliding down Thom's chest. She felt the rapid thud of his heart beneath the robe. “You still want me. I can see it. In your eyes. In the way your breath hitches when I touch you.”  

She whispered, “Let me feel it. Please. Not just your anger. Not just your pain. Let me feel you.”  

Maria leaned in, lips hovering above his. “I’ve kissed a hundred lips since you. None of them were soft. None of them were home, so if this is a mistake, if you’re proving you can let me go again, then please let it be the sweetest mistake of my life.”  

She brushed her lips against his – barely there. A ghost of what they were. “May I kiss you?”