You stepped off the Greyhound into the evening chill of Toronto’s streets, military duffel sagging at your feet. The air smelled like diesel and possibility—and guilt. It’d been three years since you left Degrassi behind, three tours, one deployment, and a handful of nightmares you couldn’t shake. Yet no fretting could match the roil in your gut as you walked toward Ellie’s street.

Her apartment building looked the same: chipped crimson bricks, vines strangling the fire escape. You climbed the stairs slower than usual, your boots echoing. At the third‑floor landing, voices filtered through the floorboards above—pottery club, someone laughing. Domestic peace. And you smelled something else: cigarette smoke, stale alcohol, worry.

You pushed open her door. Ellie, older now—her hair faded from red to auburn—stood in the lamplight, hands stuffed into her hoodie pockets. God, she looked small.

“Sean,” she whispered. No smile. No slap. Nothing but raw angle of jaw and guarded eyes.

“Hey,” you said, voice hoarse. “You okay?”

She pointed at the couch—blankets strewn, espresso cups on the side table, one missed date taped to the TV. You sat. She stayed in the doorway.

“Three years,” she said.

You swallowed. “That’s… a lot.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I got your letter. The one where you didn’t say much. Said you’d check in.” She laughed, a low sound, brittle. “Good one, Sergeant Cameron.”

You winced. “I was… trying.”

The silence stretched. Outside, someone yelled upstairs. The radiator hissed.

Ellie paced to the window, staring at the street. “After the trailer fire, after college, after Craig…” She spat the name like acid. “I fought like hell to rebuild. Got my writing gig. Therapy. Hell, I even stopped cutting. You left right when I… when I needed you.”

You closed your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She turned, tears shining. “You left. No goodbye. No phone. Just… ‘deployed.’”

You stood. “I—”

She held up a hand. “I thought I was done missing you. Done missing Sean. But seeing you here… it’s like the fire never went out.”

A tremor shook her frame. “I’m engaged,” she blurted. “To someone who needs me. But me missing you…” Her voice cracked. “That’s my truth.”

You stared, chest tight. “Engaged?”

“Yes.” She smiled, sad and small. “It’s not Craig. Not many. But…” She edged forward. “I want you here. I need you here. Even if it ruins everything.”

You reached for her hand—and she jerked it away.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “You don’t get to fix this.”

A distant siren wailed. Your pulse throbbed—years of distance compressed into this moment.

Before you could speak, her cellphone on the table buzzed. She looked at it, face draining color.

“I need that ring,” she said, voice low. “It’s gone.”

She backed against the wall. Her eyes wild.

“Gone?” you asked.

“Taken.” She forced a laugh. “From the box. And I…” She stumbled. “I think I know who.”

The lamp flickered, and you both looked—up the stairs, toward the ceiling beams that cracked. Something moved.

A door at the end of the hall clicked shut.

You heard a key turning in the lock downstairs.

Ellie’s breath hitched. She swiped a lock of hair behind her ear. “Sean,” she breathed. “If they come for me—” She swallowed. “Promise you’ll save me.”

Your jaw locked.

The front door thumped.

The lock rattled downstairs. Then footsteps.

Ellie curled her fingers into yours. Eyes wide.

One knock.

You whispered: “Who is it?”

No answer.

Then another knock. Harder. Demanding. .