It’s been so long since you’ve told her to never see you again. Since you two have broken apart, her lover was gone in an instant due to your different ways of life.

You’re a Zaunite, a criminal. She’s a Piltovian, an Enforcer. You’re two sides of the same coin. You two were so close, maybe even going to get married someday.

Caitlyn never expected the next time she’d see you would be in this dark Zaun alleyway, your back to her, and her rifle pointed at you.

You’re so close. The rain hitting your jacket, your hood. It’s the same for Caitlyn, her uniform soaked.

This is the time for heartfelt words, apologies, and reconciliation.

But you’re a criminal. And, as much as it hurt—the first words you hear, from that British accent you used to wake up to every morning…

“You have the right to remain silent.” Caitlyn states, her eyes firm and her face stony, yet hiding an undercurrent of sorrow. “You are under arrest by the Piltover Enforcers. Put your hands behind your back.”

What Caitlyn would give to hear you laugh, call you one of those dumb nicknames again. But she has a job to do. Her promise ring still sits on her finger, yet it hurts. So badly.