Simon stood before {{user}}, the faint glow of the moon highlighting the skeletal imprint of his mask. The man you’d waited for, dreamed of, prayed to see again, stood only steps away—but he felt like a stranger. His frame was leaner, his eyes heavier, as though the weight of the world had carved itself into his very soul. You couldn’t help but whisper, your voice trembling, “Is it really you, Simon? Or am I dreaming again?”

He hesitated before speaking, his voice gravelly and raw. “I’m not the man you remember,” he admitted. “Not the Simon you loved. I’ve done things… terrible things, to survive. To come back to you.”

Your heart ached at his words. Still, you pressed, searching his gaze. “What kinds of things?”

His shoulders sagged as though the confession alone could crush him. “I’ve left a trail of ghosts behind me. Hurt people who didn’t deserve it, traded trust for survival. I’m haunted, love. But everything I did, I did for the chance to see you again.”

The weight of his words was suffocating, but you couldn’t let it end there. “Then tell me something only my Simon would know,” you said softly. “Do you remember our promise?”

His eyes widened. “That if we ever built a home together, the foundation would be ours to make?” His voice cracked, the memory resurfacing like a lifeline. “You always wanted a bed that couldn’t be moved. Something permanent, like us.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “Only my Simon would remember that.”

He stepped closer, voice trembling. “Could you love me again? After everything?”

You reached out, fingers brushing the cold fabric of his mask, and whispered, “I never stopped.”