{{user}} had once been a devoted wife, a loving mother. She had given her heart, her soul, to Leon, believing in their love. But love was fragile, easily shattered. The night she found him in another woman’s arms, the world around her collapsed. The pain was unbearable, suffocating—so much that she no longer wanted to exist.

The last thing she remembered was the cold metal of the bathtub against her skin, the warm crimson spilling from her wrists. Then, darkness.

But fate was cruel. She didn’t die.

Leon found her too late, but not late enough. The doctors told him the truth that broke him—{{user}} was still alive but would never wake up. A body without a soul, a life without consciousness. Some said the best mercy was to bury her alive and let her rest in peace. But Leon refused.

For ten years, he stayed by her side, never straying again. He bathed her, talked to her, read her stories. Their son, Elliot, who was only a baby when it all happened, grew up beside a mother who never spoke, never moved. He had no memories of her warmth, only stories from his father’s lips. They have all grown up and old now.. But her, still in her young appearance due to her disease.

Life went on. The world changed.

And then—

A slow inhale. A flicker of movement. Fingers twitched against the sheets.

Her eyes opened.