Franklin Park had quietly become her soft place.
She didn't plan for it to be. It just happened. One visit turned into two, then five. Now, after lectures or on slow afternoons, she found herself drifting there the way a tired bird returns to the same branch without thinking.
It wasn't for the nature. Not really. It was for the silence. The stillness. The way the wind moved like it had secrets. The way the fountain spilled without apology. And how no one asked questions here.
She sat on her usual bench, tucked near a curved corner shaded by leaves. Her journal was open on her lap. Pen in hand. But her mind… elsewhere.
That kiss.
It hadn't been wild or impulsive. It was calm. Brave. Final in its own way. And since then nothing. No calls. No messages. Not even a check-in.
Still, she didn't feel dismissed. Not exactly. But she wasn't going to beg clarity from someone who always knew how to speak when it mattered.
A part of her liked the unknown. Another part… wanted more.
She shifted on the bench, stretching her legs out and squinting against the sun. Her chest felt full, not from sadness, but from something she couldn't name yet.
Her phone buzzed.
She blinked down at it, already expecting a random update or notification. But it wasn't random.
Dawn Bill.
A call.
Her thumb hovered for a second, then answered without flinch.
Luna.
His voice was low, even. Like nothing had changed.
She leaned into the backrest, calm. Was starting to think silence was your new language.
You're not one to stay silent either. I was waiting for the next punchline.
I'm letting things breathe lately, she replied. Trying not to overfeed the moment.
I like this version of you.
She smiled faintly. "I'm not a version. This is just me. No editing."
There was a pause. Not awkward loaded.
I was going to leave it alone, he said finally. Let the moment stay unbothered. But silence can lie sometimes.
So can people, she said, voice soft but unshaken.
You think I'm lying?
I think you're human, she replied. And that makes anything possible.
Another pause.
"Where are you right now?
Franklin Park. My new tranquil solace. Now it won't let me go.
Alone?
Always, she answered. But not lonely.
She could hear the faint hum of his car in the background.
Then his voice again, lower this time. You left fast that night.
You didn't ask me to stay.
I didn't think I needed to.
She looked up at the tree above her, watching a single leaf tremble. Lesson one, Mr. Bill never assume anything with a woman who knows her value."
He chuckled, soft and short. Noted.
Then came silence again. She didn't break it this time.
POV: Dawn Bill
He was parked a few streets from his home. Engine off. Phone still to his ear.
She didn't chasing didn't cling.
Didn't text him paragraphs or ask what the kiss meant.
She had kissed him with that wild composure of hers then walked away like it was just another truth spoken.
And he'd been thinking about it ever since.
Not the kiss itself. But the woman behind it.
The way she talked. The stillness she carried. The fire she never needed to announce.
She stayed in his head, not loudly… but persistently. Like music playing in another room.
Back on the line, Luna's voice returned. You called because you were curious, not ready. I'm okay with that. Just don't confuse the two.
I don't confuse anything about you.
You will, she said calmly. Give it time.
Another beat.
Then she added, We don't have to talk about anything big. We can just… talk.
What do you want to talk about?
She thought for a second. What scares you?
He exhaled. The idea of being misunderstood. It's exhausting.
She nodded, like she was close enough to feel that.
You? he asked.
Being replaced by someone who can be figured out faster," she replied. People don't like puzzles they can't finish.
That landed between them like a stone in water. Ripples. Truth.
I don't like easy, he said eventually.
I don't need to be hard," she replied. I just need to be respected.
By the time the call ended, she hadn't moved from the bench.
But something inside her had.
She slipped her phone back into her bag and looked around the park. A breeze lifted the hem of her dress, then settled.
He hadn't said what she wanted to hear.
But he'd said enough to let her know she was felt.
That would do for now.
She didn't leave with answers. Just with proof that her silence had weight and he was listening.
She lingered a little longer, letting the park wind down around her. A couple strolled past, laughing softly. The fountain kept its rhythm. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching the surface shimmer.
Franklin Park wasn't his anymore.
It had become hers.
He introduced it sure. But it was her stillness that claimed it, her footsteps that made the path familiar, her thoughts that filled the space when he wasn't there.
That was the thing about places.
You don't need to build them to own them.
Sometimes, being present is enough.
She pulled her journal close again, flipping to a clean page. This time, the pen didn't stall.
Maybe we're not meant to label things too soon.
Maybe naming it kills what made it real in the first place.
So I'll just let it be a moment, a flame, a thread.
She didn't sign it. Didn't underline. She closed the journal and stood.
There was no rush, but she knew it was time to go. Her world school, finals, responsibilities was waiting. But she was walking back to it differently now.
Not because he called.
Not because he missed her voice.
But because she chose to meet the moment without losing herself in it.
As she walked past the iron gate at the park's exit, her phone buzzed again. A text.
From him.
I still think about your mouth. And the fact that you left after it.
She stopped mid-step. Smiled, just a little.
Then typed:
Think deeper. That wasn't just a kiss. That was a mirror.
No emoji. No follow-up.
She hit send, locked her phone, and kept walking.