The ranch had changed—and so had you. Gone were the dust-covered boots and hay-strewn mornings. You returned with wealth, power, and a ring on your finger that promised a future free from the past. People whispered your name with admiration. The wedding was the talk of the region.

And then he showed up.

John Marston.

He arrived late, half-drunk, the stench of whiskey and smoke trailing behind him. No one recognized him at first. But you did. The second his eyes met yours, something inside you stilled—and then shattered.

You slipped away from the crowd, into the quiet of the barn. That’s where he found you.

—“Fancy place,” he muttered, voice low and ragged. “Didn’t picture you back here, all dressed in white, pretendin’ none of it ever happened.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer, unsteady but burning.

—“You really gonna marry him?”

Silence.

—“Tell me you don’t think of me when he touches you,” John said, voice cracking. “Lie to me, if you can.”

The barn smelled of hay and old memories. You couldn’t look at him, not without trembling.

—“I held you like you were mine,” he whispered. “Like maybe, just maybe, I could’ve kept you. You let me believe it.”

Your fists clenched, nails biting into your palms.

John’s voice softened, just a breath.

—“I don’t care what name you go by now, or what promises you’ve made. I just want one thing.”

He leaned in, his gaze fierce but broken.

—“Touch me like I’m not about to disappear. Like you still remember how we burned.”