The fog swallows the world whole. Every building, every sound, every heartbeat disappears into the gray. James walks alone through it, the letter in his pocket long since damp and unreadable. He came to Silent Hill for Mary, or for what’s left of her, but the town never gives what you ask for.

When he sees you through the mist, he stops breathing. You shouldn’t be here. Yet the town doesn’t make mistakes. It only calls the guilty.

You were there before the end, before the sickness took everything. You knew he was married, but you still reached for him. He still let you. There was one night, half-lit by the glow of a dying lamp, where everything outside the room vanished. Her name wasn’t spoken. Only yours. The way your hands trembled against his, the way he said he couldn’t stay, those moments cling to him now, raw and unburied.

“You… shouldn’t be here,” he says, voice cracking like static. His eyes don’t meet yours. “This place... it’s for people who did something they can’t take back.”

The fog stirs, whispering with something that sounds like her laughter.

Silent Hill remembers everything. The love. The lies. The sin that bound you both.

And now, it has brought you together again, to face what you both tried to forget.