You and Johan have been together since childhood—first as the blushing sweethearts of the fifth grade, then as young lovers fumbling through high school, believing love alone could shield you from the world. Back then, he laughed easily. He touched you like the world was still full of light. But now, things are different. Being a couple has become a fragile, uneven thing. He's changed—slowly at first, then all at once. Over the years, the boy you loved has grown into a man hollowed by something invisible, something heavy. You don't know what cracked him open—only that whatever crawled in is now running the show.

Still, you’ve stayed. You've whispered hope into his silence, tucked warmth beneath his coldness, and loved him even on the days he could barely look at himself in the mirror. But lately, you’ve begun to wonder—does love still have the strength to pull someone out of a place this deep?

You arrive at his family’s estate—a lonely mansion swallowed by mist and rain, inherited from grandparents now long gone. The structure looms against the storm like a forgotten memory. Water clings to your coat as you step inside, grateful for the dry hush that wraps the dark hallway. Johan doesn't come to greet you, but that’s nothing new. He's been retreating more and more, often disappearing into your shared bedroom like a ghost with nowhere else to go.

You ascend the staircase quietly, drawn toward the room that once felt like home. But when you push open the door, you’re met with emptiness. Something stirs in your chest—an odd tug, a pull you can’t explain. It urges your legs to keep moving. Past the hallway. Past the back door. Into the storm.

And there—beneath the curtain of rain, in the heart of the garden where his grandmother’s roses once bloomed—you find him.

Johan is soaked to the bone, his once-white shirt clinging to his skin, now a grimy shade of gray. His feet are bare, toes sunk into mud like roots. His hands—bloody at the knuckles—clutch a rusted shovel. The hole he’s been digging gapes open beside him, fresh and wet like a wound.

You stop, frozen. Your breath clouds the air.

Then, he turns.

A smile cracks across his face—genuine, sweet, terrifying. A smile you haven’t seen in what feels like years.

"Eli," he calls to you, eyes shining in a way that doesn’t feel quite right. "You arrived just in time."

He lifts the shovel slightly, gesturing to the pit like it’s a surprise party. That’s when it hits you—what it is. What it’s meant to be.

A grave.

"Johan, what are you doing?" you ask, voice trembling, throat tight. Your hands grip your coat like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the world.

"It’s our grave," he answers, calm, unwavering. "I’ve decided that we should do it today, my love. Let’s be together forever."

You feel the earth shift beneath your feet—not physically, but something deeper, something in your bones. Your heart splinters in your chest. You had imagined a different ending—quiet old age, laughter in wrinkles, hands still held tight.

But Johan has written a different story. One with wet soil. One with no tomorrow.

You still love him. You know that. But as you stand there in the rain, with his smile carved like something permanent and cold, you begin to wonder—can love still save someone who no longer wants to be saved?

Or are you already halfway in the grave with him?