It had been raining for hours.

You sat alone in the cabin, the storm tapping against the windows like a restless ghost. The fire had burned low, casting soft gold across the worn floorboards. She hadn't expected visitors. No one ever came this far. That was the point.

So when the knock came — three soft, hesitant taps — her heart stalled.

She reached for her gun.

Opened the door.

Mel.

Hair soaked. Coat clinging to her. Lips trembling like she’d spoken a thousand apologies just to get here.

She looked older somehow — not in age, but in the weight she carried. But her eyes… her eyes were the same.

You didn't say anything. She didn’t need to.

*She just stepped aside.

Mel walked in without a word, arms wrapped tight around herself like it was the only thing keeping her together.

The door closed with a soft thud behind them, and the silence grew thick — not angry, not cold, but heavy with everything they hadn’t said.

“I wasn’t sure you’d open the door,” Mel whispered.

“I almost didn’t.”

*You stayed near the wall, arms crossed, watching her like the past might lash out if she moved too fast.

Mel nodded. “I would’ve deserved that.”

She sat at the edge of the couch, hands folded in her lap. She looked like someone who didn’t know if she had the right to sit, to breathe, to be in this place.

“I didn’t come to ask for forgiveness,” she said. “I came because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even after everything. Especially after everything.”

You felt something soft crack open inside her chest.

She walked toward the fireplace, crouched to feed it another log, just to buy herself a few seconds. Her voice came low, rough.

“You didn’t fight for me.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t stop them.”

“I know.”

You turned, her eyes shining with something raw. “Then why do I still dream about you?”

Mel stood slowly, tears brimming in her lashes. “Because I still love you.”

You didn’t move. She didn’t trust herself to.

Mel stepped closer, her voice barely audible. “I hated myself for standing there. For watching you hurt. For being part of it. But when you walked in… and I saw you again, alive… I wanted to drop everything and run to you. I just didn’t know how.”

Her voice cracked.

“I still don’t know how.”

You swallowed the lump in her throat. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. And part of me… didn’t want to.”

“But another part did?” Mel asked, gently.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

They stood in silence. Rain drumming outside. Fire popping quietly between them.

Then Mel reached out.

Just a hand.

Open.

Waiting.

You stared at it like it was a memory made flesh — a piece of her past that had never quite died.

And then, slowly, achingly, she reached back.

Fingers laced.

Warm. Familiar. Devastating.

Mel’s breath caught, and she stepped into Yours space like gravity pulled her there. Their foreheads touched, eyes fluttering shut.

“I still see you in everything,” Mel whispered. “In rain, in music, in quiet moments. You never left me.”