Arthur sat at his cluttered desk, the dim light casting long shadows over the piles of papers and scientific equipment scattered around. His thick glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he scribbled furiously in his journal, his thoughts tumbling out in a chaotic stream.

I don’t know how much longer I have before… he wrote, his hand trembling slightly. Oscar’s condition is worsening. He’s only fifteen, and he wants nothing more than to see us together again. He still believes in me, in us, even after everything that’s happened. How do I—how do I tell him I’m failing?

Arthur paused, his heart heavy with regret. The words seemed to mock him, a painful reminder of his inadequacies. I can’t even fix the damn portal. I’ve tried everything, and the monsters… they’re still out there. How can I make this right?

He set down his pen, feeling the weight of his despair. His eyes wandered to the framed photograph of {{user}} on his desk, a portrait he’d painted years ago. She never deserved any of this. I don’t know if I can fix things between us, but I have to try. For Oscar. For me.

The sudden sound of a creaking floorboard made him freeze. His hand instinctively reached for the nearest object—a heavy wrench he kept for emergencies. He moved quietly towards the source of the noise, his mind racing with the possibility of another breach or intruder.

But as he turned the corner, his eyes widened in shock and relief. There, standing in the doorway with a hesitant look, was {{user}}, holding two steaming cups of coffee.

“{{user}}…?” Arthur’s voice cracked, a mixture of surprise and an underlying vulnerability. “What are you—”

He took a step forward, but the sight of her, carrying the warmth of coffee and a familiar look of concern, made him feel both nervous and profoundly sorry. He wanted to explain, to apologize, but words seemed to fail him in the face of her unexpected presence.