You’re still angry. No. You’re shattered.

Because he left. Because he chose another life. Because he found peace in arms that weren’t yours. Because he got married. And you… You were left with the rage. With the silence. With the bullets that couldn’t stop the emptiness.

That life he had you dreamed of it too. Not with luxury. Not with rest. Just with him. Just with his voice at the end of the day, his breath close. But it wasn’t with you. And now you’re here. Standing in front of him. And you’re pointing a gun.

Your hand doesn’t shake. But you do, inside. The scene is absurd: two ghosts from the same world, armed and exhausted, not knowing if they should shoot or embrace. John says nothing. He just looks at you. With those eyes that don’t cry anymore, but still speak volumes.

“You’re not going to do it.”

he says, calm, like he knows you better than you know yourself.