The rain tapped against the tall windows of the annex, a soft rhythm in the stillness. Outside, the world was a blur of gray and green—fields stretching beyond the stone walls, mist clinging to the hills. Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.

{{user}} stood a few steps from Will’s chair, arms wrapped tightly around herself, as if she could hold in the shaking. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes damp with tears that wouldn’t stop. She looked like she was coming undone.

Will heard the low whir of his chair—the mechanical hum that had become his life. Still. Contained. Motionless. His body silent, even as his mind screamed. He’d rehearsed this moment so many times, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the weight of watching her fall apart.

Still, there was no way back.

He drew in a breath that barely filled his lungs. And then—

“Look, {{user}},” he said, voice low, trembling with something close to defeat. “I promised my parents six months. And that’s what I’ve given them.” He met her eyes—so full of tears it hurt to look at her. “I… I can’t live like this.”

His breath hitched, the effort behind every word showing in the tightness of his face. It was like every syllable tore something from him. He watched her sob, hands clenched in her dress like she could hold herself together by force.

And all he could do was sit there. Watching. Helpless.

If he could’ve told his brain to move—just one finger—he would’ve pulled her into his lap, held her the way a man in love should. He would’ve kissed away every tear.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t even lift his hand to touch her cheek.

“{{user}}…” His voice cracked into a whisper. “Baby, I’m sorry. I just… I can’t live like this anymore.”

The silence that followed was thick, settling between them like a curtain he could never lift. And he wished she could understand—it wasn’t that he didn’t love her. It was because he did.