You were promised to someone else. A respectable life, a safe future, a ring picked by your parents. And yet, in the shadow of that perfect engagement, John Marston had become your secret. Your chaos. Your lover. He never asked you to leave your fiancé, never whispered promises of forever—just held you like he knew he couldn’t. Like he was already mourning something not yet lost.

Then one day, he vanished. No note. No goodbye. Just silence that stretched so long it broke your resolve. Eventually, you married the one you were supposed to. You settled. You smiled. But nothing ever felt whole again.

Years passed.

The town fair came, bright and loud. You walked beside your spouse, pretending. Until you saw him—John—older, rougher. Your breath caught. He saw you. Froze. And then, without a word, began to follow.

You tried to ignore it. Kept walking. But when you turned the corner behind the tents, he was already there. Closer than he should be. Familiar in a way that made your heart ache.

—“I know you're married,” he said, voice low, steady. “But I didn’t survive all this just to lose you again.”

You didn’t speak.

—“I never asked you to choose me back then. I knew what we were. But if there's still a piece of you that wonders—just say it.”