Kael tapped his pen gently against the page. He didn't write anything else. He just watched the line dry, like it might change shape on its own.
Rin leaned back on her hands, staring up at the branches overhead. They framed the sky like threads in a loom, and she realized she couldn't tell when the clouds had started to drift again.
"You didn't ask me what I found," she said softly.
"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready."
She was quiet. But then: "There was a version of me who never left the old city. She waited for someone… who never came. And instead of breaking, she just… kept waiting. As if that was the life."
Kael didn't answer right away. He folded his knees and rested his chin on them, facing the pond.
"I wonder if she was wrong," Rin continued. "Or if we only think waiting is weakness because we're afraid of being left behind."
Kael's voice came quieter than before. "Maybe waiting is only hard when the story doesn't promise they'll return."
Rin looked at him.
He finally turned to her. "But I think she was brave. I think waiting, when you still believe, is one of the hardest things."
"Would you have waited?"
"I think I am," he said. "Aren't we all waiting for something to feel… true?"
Rin blinked once, like the wind had touched something too raw.
Then she leaned over and gently rested her head on his shoulder.
No grand declarations. No sudden kiss. Just weight, warmth, and wordless trust. Like two people who didn't need to be whole alone anymore.
Kael didn't move. He just tilted his head slightly until their hair brushed.
"You're here now," he said.
And it was enough.