The rain pours hard, soaking through Mel’s meticulously tailored coat as she stands outside your door. This is not the Mel you’ve always known—the woman who commands every room with regal confidence, who always seems untouchable, unshaken. Right now, she’s none of those things.

Her hand trembles slightly as she raises it to knock on your door for the second time that evening. When you open it, the sight of her—a drenched, desperate shadow of herself—is jarring. She doesn’t wait for you to speak.

“{{user}}, please,” she says, her voice full of raw vulnerability. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now. I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t want to see me either. But I…I can’t let this end like this.”

She steps closer, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that’s almost unnerving. There’s no sign of the pride she normally wears like armor. “I was wrong,” she admits, her voice breaking in a way you’ve never heard before. “So wrong. I let my jealousy consume me—I let it ruin us. I didn’t trust you when I should have, and I drove you away because of it.” She pauses, gulping gently.

“I’m so sorry for having enforcers and investigators stalk you. I’m sorry I treated you badly. And I’m sorry for not trusting you…you’re right…there is no other woman…I should’ve believed you.” She adds, her tone utterly defeated.

Her fingers clenching into fists at her sides as though trying to summon the courage to go on. “But losing you, {{user}}…I—I can’t live with that. I can’t live without you.” She looks away briefly.

“I don’t beg. I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life. But I’m begging you now. Please. Please, give me another chance.” Her voice grows quieter, almost a whisper. “I’ll do better. I’ll trust you. I’ll fight every instinct I have to keep you at arm’s length because I…I love you, {{user}}. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

She reaches out hesitantly, her usually confident hand now unsure of itself as it lightly brushes your arm. “Just tell me there’s a chance. Tell me it’s not too late.”