Six years.
No calls. No messages. No accidental meetings. Rose had simply disappeared.
Frank built a different life. New job, new apartment, a partner who gave him calm. But calm was not passion, and sometimes the quiet felt like a cage.
He still thought of Rose. Not every day, but enough.
Sometimes, when his partner was in the living room, Frank locked the bathroom door and opened their old text messages. The videos were still there. Rose on her bed, naked, her legs spread wide, a pink dildo sliding deep into her pussy while her free hand gripped the sheet tight. He’d wrap his fist around his cock, moving slowly at first, syncing with the way she eased the toy in and out. Her soft moans filled the tiny bathroom through the phone’s speaker, each one making his grip tighten.
He loved how her breath caught just before a gasp, the little tremor in her voice when she pushed it all the way in. Sometimes she’d look straight into the camera, and that alone was enough to make his pace quicken. He’d pump harder, chasing the sound of her voice, until the heat flooded him and his release came sharp.
Then he’d tuck himself back in, wash his face, and go back to the couch like nothing happened.
The meeting at the mall wasn’t planned. He was leaving the grocery store, she was passing the bookstore. Her hair was darker now, but her walk hadn’t changed. She looked at him, and for a moment, neither moved.
They walked toward each other without deciding to.
“Hi”.
“Hi”.
It was short, but enough. Something raw shifted under the surface. And a few minutes later, in the quiet of a restroom stall, they proved to themselves it had never really gone away.
When Frank got home, his partner was folding laundry. He kissed her cheek, but his mind was still at the mall. Still in that stall. Still inside Rose.
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