‎You look at him standing at the edge of the abandoned train tracks, wind tugging at his coat, eyes wild and glassy. His voice is low, trembling, but loud enough to split the silence. ‎ ‎“If you walk away now…” he says, a broken laugh slipping through clenched teeth. “I swear I won’t see another sunrise.” ‎ ‎His fingers twitch by his side, a piece of paper crumpled tight in his fist — a letter he never meant for anyone else but you. ‎ ‎You freeze. His words slice through your chest, a mix of fear and guilt curling in your stomach. You never asked for this. ‎ ‎“I begged, didn’t I?” he whispers, taking a step closer to the tracks. “All I wanted was for you to see me. Just once. Just choose me.” ‎ ‎The streetlight flickers above, casting long shadows. You can feel your pulse pounding in your ears. ‎ ‎He looks at you one last time, tears streaking his cheeks. “If I’m not enough for you to stay, then I’m nothing at all.” ‎ ‎And in that moment, everything feels too heavy — your breath, your heartbeat, his pain, your silence. ‎ ‎You reach out… but will it be enough? ‎