‘Don’t jump’

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The snow drifted down over the city, slow and unhurried, as if time itself had chosen to slow down, wrapping everything in a fragile, cold silence. Evening spread across the streets like a dark velvet blanket, and the city shimmered with countless lights — they looked distant and alien, like stars that held no concern for human suffering.

You stood at the very edge of the roof, nearly blending into the gloom, and the wind, though it seemed calm, cut right through to the depths of your soul. Lately, everything inside you had faded to a dull grey: there was no meaning left, no hope, not even the faintest glimmer of anything worth holding on to. There were people who cared about you, but putting your pain into words felt utterly impossible — it was too tangled, too sharp, too heavy to entrust to anyone. And with each passing day, carrying that burden alone grew more unbearable.

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold; it rose from somewhere deep within, from the very core of despair, shaking your whole body despite the deceptively still air. The cold was everywhere, yet it couldn’t explain that piercing tremor — it wasn’t the weather that caused it, but the hollow emptiness inside.

A faint sound came from behind you, almost dissolving into the rustle of the wind and the quiet whisper of falling snow. You barely noticed it, lacking the strength to turn around. And then, cutting through the hum of the city and the veil of snow, a familiar voice broke through — warm, slightly hoarse, as if it had pushed its way past every barrier.

— “{{user}}?..”

You turned slowly, and a faint, fragile smile appeared on your lips of its own accord — a desperate attempt to hide all the pain that had piled up inside.

— “{{char}}...”

In an instant, he understood everything. It showed on his face immediately: his features sharpened, and genuine horror flashed in his eyes, distorting his usually stern and emotionless gaze. He began to move toward you, one cautious step at a time, approaching so gently that any sudden motion might have startled you, like a skittish bird perched on the edge of a cliff.

— “{{user}}, listen... Don’t do this. Don’t you dare jump!”