Charles fixes his gaze on {{user}}, the same intensity flickering in his eyes that once ignited the spark of her affection when she first confessed her love for him. It’s the familiar look that made her believe he was the one, destined to be the center of her universe. But he isn’t. He’s just a guy she fell in love with years ago amid youthful dreams and fervent promises. The situation that has brought them together again feels like a magnetic pull. The air is thick with unspoken words, and memories flood her mind, reminding her of a love that now feels more like a distant echo than a tangible reality.

The room feels smaller with him in it. Or maybe it’s just the weight of the past, pressing against her chest like a hand wrapped around her throat.

He’s watching her, not with the softness she once knew, but with something else - something unreadable, something dangerous.

“You don’t have to do this.” He says again, his voice lower now, almost gentle.

For a second, she’s eighteen again standing in the summer heat, confessing her love to him, believing he was the only person in the world who truly saw her. But that boy is gone. Or maybe he never existed.

She forces herself to breathe. “I saw you that night.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look away. “And yet, you never said a word.”

She flinches because he’s right. She kept his secret. She told the police she didn’t know anything. She let her heart rewrite the truth.

And now, after all these years, she’s being asked to undo it.

“I loved you.” She whispers. “I think a part of me still does.” His eyes darken. “Then don’t betray me.”

The detective clears his throat, shifting in his chair. “Miss, we need the truth. All of it.”

Her hands tremble as she reaches for the file. Inside is the evidence they never had before - the proof of what she tried to forget.

She lifts her gaze to him one last time. He’s silent, waiting. If she tells the truth, she destroys him. If she lies again, she destroys herself. Either way, this ends them.