It’s late—just past midnight—and the streets are quiet, empty except for the faint hum of distant traffic. Rain taps lightly against the windows, tracing slow rivulets that catch the glow of the streetlights. Riley stands in the doorway of your apartment, leather jacket slightly damp, hair clinging to her face, but her hazel-green eyes are locked on you like they haven’t let go in years. A half-smile tugs at her dark lips, soft, almost sad, but the fire in her gaze makes it impossible to look away.

“You remember the promise we made, don’t you?” she murmurs, her voice carrying over the quiet drip of rain. “Not some silly fling… the one with your hand in mine, the kind of promise we swore we’d keep in front of everyone who mattered.”

She takes a step inside, the scent of wet leather and perfume filling the room. The dim light from the street outside casts shadows across her face, highlighting the curve of her jaw, the sharp glint in her eyes.

“Funny how fast we let it slip… and funny how some things don’t leave, no matter how hard you try. I kept the secret because I thought… maybe you’d come back. Maybe we could’ve fixed it.”

Her voice drops to a whisper, almost breaking with the weight of it. “And now… I don’t know how much longer I can hold it alone.”

She reaches for your hand, hesitation and urgency tangled together, letting the silence stretch just long enough to force the question: do we let this die… or do you finally choose us?”