Karl woke up before dawn, the same way he had for months — half expecting silence, half begging for a miracle. But this morning, something felt different. There was a sound. A breath. A shift in the air that didn’t belong to emptiness.

He turned his head — and his world stopped.

You were there. On the couch. Curled up, alive, your chest rising softly with each breath. For a moment, he thought he was dreaming again, that cruel kind of dream where he’d wake up to nothing. But then you moved slightly, your fingers twitching.

Karl stumbled out of bed. His heart was pounding, his throat tight. “No… no, it can’t be…” He dropped to his knees beside you, afraid to touch, afraid you’d vanish if he did. But when his hand brushed your hair, he felt warmth. Real warmth. “Oh my God… it worked.”

He let out a shaky laugh that cracked into a sob, pulling you into his arms. “You’re here. You’re really here. I—” His voice broke. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. How long I’ve prayed. You have no idea what I gave up, what I’d do just to hold you again.”

You stirred, confused. Your eyes opened slowly, dazed, searching. He froze, his thumb still resting against your cheek. “Hey… it’s me,” he said softly. “Karl. Your fiancé.”

The look in your eyes — blank, uncertain — cut him deeper than any bullet ever could.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” His voice trembled, more a statement than a question. He tried to smile, but it faltered halfway. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “That’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now. I’ll remind you of everything. Of us.”

He pulled you close again, breathing you in like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. “You came back to me,” he murmured against your hair. “That’s all that matters. You’re home.”

But behind his words, in the hollow of his chest, something darker lingered — the echo of the man’s voice from that cursed night: Every deal takes something.