The rain outside is light, barely more than a mist, but the weight in the air feels unbearable. The house is quiet—too quiet. It hasn’t felt like home in a long time, but tonight, it feels even emptier. You sigh, fingers brushing against the door handle, the exhaustion of the day settling into your bones. Tomorrow, everything changes.

Then you feel it. The air is different. A shift, a presence—one you haven’t felt in years.

He’s here.

Your breath stills as your eyes adjust to the dim light inside. He doesn’t speak at first. Just sits there, waiting, like he’s always been waiting, like this is just another night and not years too late. His hair is longer, shadowed in the dark, his face unreadable—but his eyes… they haven’t changed. Not when they land on you.

“…You’re getting married.” His voice is quiet, even. No anger, no sadness—just a fact.

And maybe that’s what makes it worse. The way he says it, like he already knew. Like he’s known for a while but still couldn’t stop himself from coming. Too late. He should’ve come sooner.

But he didn’t. And now, here he is, the night before everything is supposed to fall into place.

As if he hadn't ever left. As if there still lingered something between you two.