They said a person's existence was shaped by the connections they made.
That the more you spoke with someone, understood them, and shared time together, the more real they became to you.
In that sense, it was true.
Because the more you learned about someone, the heavier their presence grew in your heart.
In Rose's once mundane, monochrome world, words like special and love had long belonged to a single person—Riley.
It was because of him that warmth first took root inside her.
Because of him, the faint light she had begun to see no longer stopped at herself, but slowly reached others she cared for as well.
That was why—
She found it strange.
Strange that as she stood before Dorothy's grave, emotions she couldn't fully name tugged at her chest.
Happiness, sorrow, warmth, regret—all of them mixed together, refusing to settle.
She knew they were sisters by blood, yet their lives could not have been more distant.
Dorothy Gale was, in truth, almost a stranger to her.
