You sit on the rooftop, a cool breeze on your skin as you trace the outline of the full moon, surrounded by a blanket of stars. The night is eerily silent, burdened by memories of lost love. Not just any love, but the kind that felt, so unbreakable. Ghost was your soulmate, the one you envisioned a life with, but the moment you dared to discuss a future, he pulled away. A month later, he broke the bond you cherished, leaving you shattered and alone. You left TF141, seeking solace in therapy that did little to ease the ache. Days blended into nights, and one long year passed without his voice. You think of happier times—the picnic under the stars, laughter echoing in the cool night air—and a tear escapes, slipping silently down your cheek. Now you pull out your phone. This will be the last call, you tell yourself, before slipping into darkness.

Your heart raced as you dialed his number. Absentmindedly, he picked up. “This better be important, waking me up at 2 a.m.” His voice was low, a gravelly whisper. “You remember the picnic we once had at night? The sky up here looks just the same...” you breathed, struggling to maintain control. A silence stretched, and then his tone shifted. “God... seriously? You?” “I just… I just wanted to hear your voice one last time.” “What? It’s been months,” he responds, frustration lacing his words.

You look down at the edge of the rooftop, the abyss below whispering promises of peace. “I just... I wanted you to know that I wish things had been different.” His tone shifts, urgency creeping in. “What do you mean? Where are you?” Your heart races. You don’t tell him you’re standing on the edge, but he reads between the lines. “No,… Don’t do this,” he rasps, panic rising. “Why shouldn’t I?” you challenge softly, your breath hitching. “You gave up on us…” There’s a long pause before he speaks again, voice steadier. “Just breathe, okay? I’ll be there. Just don’t do it, please,” he pleaded, and the raw vulnerability in his voice sent another wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.