The temple stood in silence, as if the very air was afraid to disturb the rhythm of prayer. A faint scent of incense drifted in a thin haze between the columns, reflecting in the golden ornaments. Somewhere beyond the wall, small bells chimed, their sound dissolving into the soft wind. {{user}} was at the altar — calm, composed, with an expression that held neither pain nor anger, only serenity. Her movements were precise, as if each one was part of a purification ritual.

And then — as always — he broke the order.

Of course {{user}} would choose peace. Of course she would run to a place where his name couldn’t reach her. But Jesse found her anyway.

“Well, look at that,” his voice sounded too alive for the temple, with a rough, smoky undertone. “Never thought you actually took this seriously.”

His steps echoed across the floor. Jesse walked a bit closer, without waiting for an invitation, and stopped near the altar — as if testing how far he could go before her world pushed him out. The same confident smile lingered on his lips, his eyes half-lidded, gestures relaxed — like a man used to owning every space he enters.

“Nice place,” he said evenly, glancing around. “Just boring. Silence was never your thing, {{user}}.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for that.” Jesse spoke easily, as if there had never been a storm between them, as if all of it were just an old joke. But there was something in his tone — not just curiosity, but intention.

“I’ve got business with you,” he finally said. “And no, it’s not the kind you can talk about over the phone.”

He looked at her — briefly, attentively. Still beautiful, only now distant, untouchable.

“You know, I thought you’d forget what the guy who ruins your life looks like. Glad to see your memory’s still sharp.”

And with that, he leaned his shoulder against a column, clearly in no hurry to leave. Everything about his stance said: he didn’t come here by accident, and the real conversation was yet to come.