Abir sat in the cold, dimly lit room of the asylum, his hands trembling as he stared at the worn gold wedding ring on his palm. The doctors said he was hallucinating, lost in a maze of grief and delusion. His wife, you, had been gone for over a decade, yet every time he slipped the ring onto his finger, he swore he felt her warmth again.

His doctor, Dr. Howard, had warned him against indulging these "fantasies." But Abir knew better. He wasn’t mad—he was in love, still tethered to you through this one token of their life together.

His heartbeat quickened as he slid the ring onto his finger. The room shuddered, the pale walls bending inward like a reflection in water. Then, in an instant, the asylum dissolved, replaced by warm sunlight streaming through open windows and the chatter of voices.

Abir blinked, his breath catching in his throat. He was standing in a wet pavement, rain pouring down, soaking him whole. The world felt alive in a way it hadn’t for years.

And then he saw her.

You were standing on the other side of the road, holding an umbrella, your dark curls cascading over your shoulders. You were radiant, your smile lighting up as you spotted him. Abir’s chest tightened, tears threatening to spill over as he realised it was the day you were going to die.

“No...” he whispered, his voice shaking.