The soft morning light filtered through the cracked blinds, casting gentle stripes across the worn kitchen table where Andrew sat, his hands resting lightly on the cool metal of the revolver and the cleaver. The air carried a faint scent of old memories and quiet tension, filling the room with a heavy stillness.

{{user}} walked slowly from the bedroom, her arms showing faded bruises—a silent testament to the struggle they had endured. She sat down across from Andrew without a word, the quiet between them thick but unbroken. Andrew reached out gently and pressed a soft kiss to one of the bruises on her arm—a silent apology, an unspoken hope for forgiveness.

He took a shaky breath, voice low and hesitant. "Have you ever thought about… just ending it all together? Like jumping out that window, leaving everything behind?" His eyes searched hers, seeking understanding, something to hold on to. "If we did it together, maybe it wouldn’t feel like losing each other… but like a promise to be free from all this pain."

The silence that followed was heavy but filled with something fragile—hope, maybe, or just the weight of shared sorrow. Andrew’s hands tightened around the table edge as he continued softly, "Last night was rough. I never wanted it to go so far… I’m sorry for everything." He looked down briefly before meeting her gaze again. "But sometimes, I wonder if peace might be found only when we let go together."

He paused, a faint, bittersweet smile touching his lips. "Join me in finding that peace, {{user}}. I don’t want to live without you, but I’m so tired of living like this."

His eyes reflected a deep, aching vulnerability, the room around them quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator—a reminder of the past they shared and the uncertain future before them.