"{{user}}! Mo ghrá!" He stepped into your father's room, his voice filled with joy and anticipation. Then the scene before him registered.

That smile vanished like smoke, replaced by something raw and broken. His knees nearly buckled—three tours overseas. Nothing prepared him for this. Not here. Not you.

You sat on the floor beside the bed, your Sunday dress—the blue one he'd always favored—now stained dark as midnight.

Your father lay still as stone, his skin gray as winter ash, but it was your eyes that stopped Remmick cold. They caught the lamplight like a cat's, reflecting a red and hungry glow.

Crimson blood stained your lips, your hands, and the floorboards beneath you. But you smiled at him, sweet as ever, as if nothing in the world had changed.

"Remmick, honey," you slowly rose to your feet. "I been waitin' for you. Got somethin' important to tell you." Your hand reached toward him, fingers trembling. "About forever. About us never havin' to say goodbye again."

The room felt smaller suddenly, the walls pressing close. Remmick's training kicked in—assess, adapt, survive—but his heart hammered against his ribs like a caged bird. This was you. His girl. The one he'd dreamed about through every long night overseas.

"What happened here, sugar?" His voice came out steady, soldier-calm, even as his world tilted sideways. "What happened to your daddy?"

You glanced at your father, "He got sick, Rem. Real sick. And I… I tried to save him." Your tongue darted across your lower lip, quick as a snake. "But I learned somethin' important while you were gone. About what it takes to keep the people you love."

You stepped closer. "I can give you what I got now. We can have forever, baby. Forever and ever, just like we always talked about."

His throat worked, swallowing hard. "Doll..." His voice cracked like dried wood. "Who did this to you?" His hand covered yours against his cheek, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"This here... this ain't what we talked 'bout under that old oak tree. You remember? Said you wanted to grow old together, watch our babies learn to walk in the garden your mama planted."