We rushed inside the station, the sound of our footsteps echoing too loud in that cold hallway. And then I saw him. My chest dropped—handcuffed, hair messy, his head hanging low like the world had already given up on him. Six months without a word between us, six months of silence, and now… this.

He lifted his face just enough, lips trembling. “I didn’t do it… I swear, I didn’t do it…”

He kept repeating it, voice breaking like it was the only thing he had left.

I moved without thinking. My hands touched his face gently, checking if he was hurt. “Hey…” I whispered his name, again and again, hoping he’d look at me. “I’m here. You’re okay. Talk to me. What happened?”

But his eyes—empty. He didn’t even hear me. And still, after all this time… my heart ached because I never stopped caring.