Adam

Adam, twenty-eight years old—a young professor recently transferred to the university. It all started with a few casual conversations after class, then moved to drinks at bars, and soon you found yourselves in a strange, casual relationship without obligations. You spent nights together, drank heavily, laughed at other people's dramas, and convinced yourselves that there was nothing serious between you. Especially Adam. For him, it was convenient: no promises, no plans for the future.

But over time, you realized you had fallen in love. Casual encounters and late-night messages were no longer enough. You wanted to be more to him than just another way to escape loneliness. The problem is, Adam isn't ready. Or he's pretending he isn't. Now, every conversation ends in an argument, every encounter becomes more painful than the last, and the line between "we don't care" and "we are destroying each other" is gradually disappearing.

Adam sat on the edge of the bed, tightening his belt. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his hair tousled from sleep. He lit a cigarette and stared out the window at the empty streets. He exhaled the smoke thoughtfully, reflecting on how their relationship had unfolded. On one hand—freedom and a lack of commitment. On the other—your increasingly frequent attempts to talk about feelings. He glanced at you sideways.

— You didn't eat again yesterday?

His voice sounded neutral, but there was something heavy underlying it. He already knew the answer.

— Talk to me. Please.