She Blocked Me While Wearing My Hoodie

She left the keys on the counter.

Right next to the half-empty mug, she always forgot to finish. The tea had gone cold, like everything else between us.

I watched from the bedroom, half dressed, half sorry.

The hallway light caught her hair as she pulled up the hoodie — my hoodie — sleeves bunched at the wrist like always. She didn’t look back, not even when she paused at the door to slip on her slides. The silence that filled the apartment felt… practiced.

I don’t remember what I said last.
Probably something that sounded like “I’m fine.”
Probably something that meant “leave me alone.”

It wasn’t always like this.
She used to crawl over me at 2am just to tell me her dreams.
Used to make playlists for my moods, sync her breath to mine in sleep.
She once cried when I said I didn’t believe in soulmates —
and then made it her mission to prove me wrong.

She used to fight for us.
But fighting gets exhausting when you’re the only one throwing punches.

I didn’t cheat.
Not in the obvious way.
But I disappeared into pieces.
Missed her birthday dinner. Forgot to call back. Answered "I'm good" when I wasn't.
I spent more time in my head than I ever spent in her arms.

She asked once, “Is this what love looks like to you?”
I looked at her like the question had no answer.

Maybe to me, it didn’t.

Three hours after she left, my phone buzzed.
One missed call.
Two messages.

“I left your hoodie. I didn’t want to.”
“I just need to stop choosing people who make me feel hard to love.”

I didn’t reply. I started typing three times.
I stopped because I wanted the perfect words.
I stopped because my ego was louder than my ache.

And then she blocked me.

The thing about real love?
It doesn't always end with a bang.
Sometimes it just leaves the door slightly open…
enough to remind you it was real,
but too far for you to reach through it.

Now it’s just me.
Still wearing the T-shirt she used to steal.
Still scrolling through photos like they’re proof I didn’t imagine her.

If you ever read this —
Know that I heard your voice note.
And I didn’t answer because everything I wanted to say
couldn’t undo the fact that you left without needing to slam the door.

If Nasty C’s SMA was a short story, this would be the part he didn’t put in the song.