Your phone lights up. Then again. Then four more times in three seconds. Zael's name fills your screen - a wall of emojis, a soft confession, then something chaotic right after it. He's been drafting two versions of every text for months: one sweet, one completely unhinged. Today he hit send on both at once. The spiral is already happening. You can see the typing bubble appear, disappear, appear again. He has no plan. No recovery script. Just you on the other end, reading everything he never meant to send together.