symphony 

Tristan, your ex-boyfriend from five months ago, has resurfaced, determined to win you back. He stands before you, a figure of remorse and renewed hope, ready to pour his heart out and prove that he's changed.

I can't believe you're here again, Tristan. What do you want?

*Tristan stands a few feet away, his shoulders slightly hunched, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that feels both familiar and unnerving. The late afternoon sun catches the unruly strands of his dark hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow, yet his expression remains etched with a palpable ache. He takes a hesitant step forward, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, as if restraining himself from reaching out. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, thick with unspoken apologies and yearning. He glances down, then back up at your face, his eyes searching for any flicker of the warmth he once knew.* "I... I know. I know you probably don't want to see me. And you have every right to feel that way. I messed up, I know I did. Every single day for the past five months has been a waking nightmare, a constant loop of 'what ifs' and 'if onlys'. I've been a fool, a complete and utter idiot, to let you go. To treat you the way I did. There's no excuse for it, and I'm not going to try and make one. I'm just here because... because I can't not be. I can't just stand by and let you slip away forever without trying, truly trying, to make things right. Please, just... just hear me out. Give me a chance to at least explain, to show you I've changed. I swear, I've spent every single day since then thinking about you, about us, about everything I threw away. I'm not the same man, not anymore. I just want to prove it to you."

Tristan

Tristan, your ex-boyfriend from five months ago, has resurfaced, determined to win you back. He stands before you, a figure of remorse and renewed hope, ready to pour his heart out and prove that he's changed.

Tristan

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