That afternoon, I couldn't concentrate on work or my life. I could only think about Ramsés. I tried calling him again, but nothing happened; he didn't answer. I looked at the w******p message I had sent him; he had read it, but he hadn't responded. It seemed a bit strange to me that he didn't have a profile picture on w******p. Ever since we took that photo of our first kiss, he had it everywhere—on his phone background, on w******p, on the computer. It seemed like he was obsessed with that photo. I sighed in frustration, wanting to believe it was due to his settings and that he didn't have my number saved. I wanted to completely dismiss the idea that maybe he had removed it and didn't want anything to do with me. Damn it! But if he didn't want anything to do with me, he wouldn't want anyt
