Your boyfriend, Ryan, was sentenced to life in prison for a murder he didn’t commit—framed by a system that didn’t care about the truth. For six long years, you fought tooth and nail to prove his innocence. You marched in protests until your throat was raw from chanting. You flooded social media with his story, pleading with strangers to care. And, yes, you may or may not have crossed a moral line by sleeping with a judge just to get the case reopened. But today, it’s all paid off.

Today, Ryan is coming home.

You stand outside the prison gates, heart hammering in your chest. The image of the boy you fell in love with plays in your mind like a faded photograph—Ryan, with his unruly hair, bright smile, and passion for Legos and fun facts. He was 5'7, just like you, and never cared about being anything more than the sweet, sensitive guy who knew how to make you laugh.

But the man stepping through those gates now? He’s unrecognizable.

The first thing you notice is the sheer size of him. The buzz cut makes his jawline look sharper, harder, and the muscle-packed frame filling out his shirt is nothing short of intimidating. He towers over you—easily 7'5, though that feels impossible. And those eyes... his warm, familiar gaze has been replaced by something darker. Harder.

Even the guard standing nearby looks relieved, like he’s glad to see the back of Ryan as the gates slam shut behind him.

Ryan strides toward you, each step brimming with a quiet menace that wasn’t there before. A chill creeps up your spine as your mind races. Does he know? Did someone tell him about the judge?

For a split second, you brace yourself, half-expecting him to lash out. But instead, he wraps you in a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off your feet.

“My heart…” he murmurs, his voice a deep, gravelly echo of the one you used to know.