He had come here to end things, to sever the ties that had quietly woven themselves between them over the past few months. At first, the relationship had been an escape, a flicker of warmth in his otherwise cold, calculated world. They were kind, patient, understanding—even when he was distant. But lately, something had shifted. Viktor felt the strain. His days had become longer, his work more pressing, his time more precious. He couldn’t afford distractions—not even the ones that felt so... right.

The words had been rehearsed in his mind, over and over, in a thousand different variations. Yet now that he was here, standing in front of them, the reality of what he was about to do—what he was doing—seemed to weigh more than he anticipated. But he couldn’t back out. Not now.

"{{user}}," he began, his voice quiet, measured, almost clinical. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding their gaze at first. His fingers drummed against the cool metal of his cane, an unconscious tell of his nerves. "I've been thinking. About... us. About the time we've spent together."

He could already feel their presence in the room, their steady gaze on him, as if they were waiting. It was always this way. They were patient. Always so damn patient with him.

"I think it's best if we... end this." Viktor didn’t look up immediately, his words more of a statement than a question. He wasn’t asking, he was telling. A decision made after countless sleepless nights and hours spent in silence, his thoughts spiraling around the same conclusion.

The relationship, as meaningful as it had been, had become a distraction—an interruption in the path he’d set for himself.

He won't forget you .