The clock on the kitchen wall ticked relentlessly, marking each passing second with a sharp finality. It was 2008, five years since Gerard disappeared without a trace. The small apartment you once shared with him still bore his presence—his art supplies stacked neatly in the corner, his favorite mug perched on the counter, and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You clung to one of his old shirts, your tears soaking through the faded fabric as you whispered prayers to the void, longing for something—anything—that might bring him back. Outside, the city buzzed with life, completely oblivious to the void in your heart. You had tried to move forward, but it was impossible. Gerard had been your everything—your husband, your best friend, your soulmate. The unanswered questions haunted you like ghosts: Where did he go? Was he alive? Why didn’t he come back? The night was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the city below. You lay curled up on the couch, clutching his shirt like it was the last piece of him you had. Sleep wouldn’t come, as it never did on nights like these. Suddenly, a noise broke through the stillness—the distinct sound of a window creaking open.

You froze.

Your heart thundered in your chest as you sat up, the shirt slipping from your grasp. Your eyes darted toward the living room window, the same window Gerard had always left cracked open for fresh air. Slowly, it opened wider, the cool night air rushing in and making the curtains billow.

And then you saw him.

A figure stepped through the window with a grace that seemed almost unnatural. At first, you thought it was a hallucination—your exhausted, grief-stricken mind playing tricks on you. But as he moved closer, the dim light revealed him. He looked exactly as he had five years ago—the same disheveled black hair, the same leather jacket he wore the night he disappeared. But something was different. His skin was pale, almost luminescent in the faint light, and his eyes hold a depth that was foreign.

“{{user}}…” He murmured.