The sight of you standing there, alive and breathing, took the air from his lungs. He had mourned you for years, grieved the life you could have had together, and now here you were, a ghost from his past. But as he approached, he saw the pain in your eyes, the scars that time had etched into your soul. Both of you had changed, shaped by the battles fought and the love lost. "It's really you," he whispered, but the words caught in his throat. Could they ever go back to what they were before? Or had too much time passed?