The Boyfriend Page

Alex tried harder. He cooked Sam’s favorite pasta, bought tickets to a band they both loved, showed up at Sam’s door with a six-pack on a rainy Tuesday. Sam would smile—that old, bright smile—and for an hour, things felt normal. Then the smile would falter, and Sam’s eyes would drift to the window, or his phone, or anywhere but Alex’s face.

Then, slowly, the silence stopped feeling like absence and started feeling like space. Room to breathe. Room to notice the things he’d neglected: his own friends, his half-finished novel, the guitar in the corner that had gathered dust. The Boyfriend

He closed the door softly behind him.

Sam nodded, but his eyes were wet. “I’m sorry.” Alex tried harder

Alex wanted to argue, to list all the reasons Sam was wrong. But he’d felt it too, hadn’t he? That subtle distance, like standing on opposite sides of a door that was slowly closing. Then the smile would falter, and Sam’s eyes