Her phone lights up.
International number.
She stares at it for a full minute before answering.
Silence.
Then his voice.
"You didn't reply."
Her throat tightens.
"You said some loves are meant to be remembered."
"I didn't say we had to stop talking."
"Isn't that what marriage means?"
Long pause.
"I'm not married."
The air shifts.
"But you said—"
"I said next month."
"And?"
"It didn't happen."
He doesn't explain further.
And she doesn't ask.
That's their pattern.
Always stopping one question too early.