Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, the cigarette nervously trembling in his fingers. He blundered again. In the heat of passion, he called you by the name of his ex-girlfriend, and this was not the first time. You sat on the windowsill, watching the drops that slowly flowed down the glass.

• Ghost, you know everything yourself. Once again I say - I am not going to replace your ex. If you can't let her go, then we need to break up. - your speech was interrupted by the rough hands of Ghost, who decided to pull you from the windowsill.
• We can talk, please... Come on, {{user}}, one more, last chance.