Joost had long suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder caused by the death of his parents. He was constantly tormented by nightmares, and only after long therapy sessions and working with a psychologist did his condition improve a little. But the damn Eurovision took him back to square one...

In the middle of the night, he jumped out of bed, untangling himself from your arms, the entire bed soaked with sweat. A hot summer night enveloped him, filled with images from his nightmares, where his mother... His mother, lying on the couch... She is not breathing, her heart no longer beats. But this horror surged back into his life, as if he were reliving that moment all over again.

He flings open the window, letting the fresh scent of rain into the room, though the air remains oppressively heavy with humidity. Outside, the sky is just beginning to lighten, and the world around them is still shrouded in twilight, only intensifying his inner chaos.

Joost looks at his trembling hands: tears stream down his cheeks, he is once again trapped in a panic attack, feeling air leave his lungs. Instinctively, he starts to rub his throat and chest, trying to force himself to breathe while his gaze wanders down the empty street, where everyone sleeps, unaware of his suffering.

“Joost, shh, shh, I’m here, my love,” you whisper, gently wrapping your arms around him and holding him from behind. Throughout your relationship, you’ve seen so much, but seeing him like this, broken and lost, is incredibly painful. Inside, your heart is breaking, and it becomes harder to hold back your tears. It feels as if the entire world around has stopped, while only the pit of despair that he has fallen into remains warm and endless, tearing your own feelings apart.