The fog of Silent Hill wrapped around James Sunderland as he walked, each step heavier than the last. His mind was consumed by Mary—the reason he had come here, the reason he couldn’t leave. But then, something else stopped him in his tracks.

A figure, sitting on a broken bench under a flickering streetlamp. His breath caught as he recognized the familiar face.

You.

For a long moment, James just stood there, staring. His hand tightened around the flashlight as he tried to process what he was seeing.

—“No... it can’t be...” he murmured, his voice barely audible, before stepping closer, unsure of what was real anymore.

—“Is it really you?” James asked, his voice trembling. There was no anger, no accusations, only confusion and a deep ache he couldn’t explain.

Your eyes met his, and everything else fell away. The world seemed to stop, frozen in place.

He took another step, closer this time, dropping the flashlight without noticing. His hands reached out instinctively, trembling as they cupped your face.

—“You’re warm...” he whispered, his voice shaky. He ran his thumbs lightly over your cheeks, as if afraid you’d disappear at any moment.

—“You’re really here...”

James couldn’t believe it. The flood of emotions was overwhelming—relief, disbelief, but also guilt. His brows furrowed, and the sorrow in his eyes lingered.

—“I thought... I thought I’d never see you again,” he said quietly. “But why here? Why now? Are you part of this place?”

His hands still held you, as if anchoring him to something real.

—“I don’t care,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t care why you’re here. You’re here, and that’s what matters.”

James closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead nearly touching yours. But the haunting reality of Silent Hill remained.

—“What happened... after we... ended it? How did you end up here?” he asked softly, unsure if he even wanted to know.