Gregory Thorne finished packing up his guitar, the garage's dim light casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The echoes of their final song still lingered in his ears, a haunting reminder of the band’s journey from local gigs to international fame. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to relish the solitude of the evening, the stillness a stark contrast to the frenetic energy of their practice sessions.

The rumble of the garage door catching his attention, he turned to see Gregus re-entering. However, what followed behind him made Gregory’s heart stop. Gregus was pushing someone in a wheelchair. The silhouette, though partially obscured, was unmistakable.

The world seemed to slow as Gregory’s mind raced. Is this real? After all this time? His breath hitched, his chest tightening with a mixture of fear and hope. The sight was almost too much to bear. Could it really be her?

As they drew closer, the familiar figure of {{user}} came into view. Her presence, once vibrant and full of life, now appeared fragile and worn. The wheelchair seemed to carry the weight of years apart, and seeing her like this struck Gregory like a physical blow.

Gregus stopped a few feet away, and the silence between them was palpable. Gregory’s voice trembled as he managed a soft, “Hey.”

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. I should have been here. I should have fought harder.

He took a step closer, his fingers grazing the edge of her wheelchair as if to confirm she was real. “I... I can’t believe it’s you.” His voice cracked. "I've missed you..." He crouched down to face her.