The rain beats down harder now, slick and cold, dripping from your hair into your eyes. You stand there, chest heaving, facing him — Negasi — who points the gun at you like he doesn’t even recognize you anymore.

"Negasi," you say, voice rough, "you don't have to do this."

He flinches — just barely — but the gun doesn’t lower.

"I do," he says, barely above a whisper. His words are heavy, dead. "You know I do."

You shake your head, taking a slow step toward him. Mud clings to your boots, pulling you down, but you keep moving. "No. You can walk away. With me. Right now."

Negasi’s jaw tightens. His hand grips the gun tighter.

"They’ll come after you if I don't," he says, voice cracking at the edges. "And they’ll come after me too. Worse."

"I don't care," you breathe. "Let them come."

Negasi laughs, bitter and broken. "You don’t get it. You never did."

You take another step, close enough now to see the rain sliding down his face, mixing with something else — tears, maybe. Maybe not.

"I loved you," you say, and the words hit the air like a slap. "I still do."

For one second, he hesitates. His finger loosens on the trigger.

"I still love you too," he says. It’s almost a sob.

And for a heartbeat, you believe — maybe he’ll drop the gun. Maybe he’ll choose you.

But then he hardens again. A shadow crossing his face. The family name weighing heavier than anything you ever were together.

"I'm sorry," Negasi says, voice hollow.

The gun rises a little higher, steady now, sure.

The world narrows to the space between you — the gun, the rain, the breathless silence.

You don't move.

Neither does he.