The market was alive with color and sound. Banners of fabric swayed overhead, splashing the cobblestones with dancing hues of red, blue, and gold as the late-morning sun filtered down through them. The scent of fresh bread and spices drifted through the air, mingling with the chatter of vendors calling out their daily specials, their voices carrying above the steady hum of the crowd.
Aaron and Lily moved side by side, slipping gently into the rhythm of the market's pulse. She kept close, her crutch clicking softly against the uneven stone as she peered at stalls lined with pyramids of fruit, jars of amber honey, and small crafts that caught the light with a sparkle. Aaron's cloth bag swung lightly at his side, already filled with their essentials—some apples polished to a shine, a jar of blackberry jam, and a loaf of warm bread still breathing out its steam through brown paper wrapping.
"It's busier than last time," Lily noted, her voice nearly lost in the sea of chatter, her eyes wide as she tried to take it all in.
Aaron glanced around, ears flicking subtly as he took in the crowd's shifting energy. "Yeah… people must be stocking up for the weekend. Or maybe they just missed this place as much as we did."
They paused at a flower stall where bundles of wildflowers leaned in mismatched tin buckets. Lily's gaze landed on a small bundle of lavender, tied neatly with twine. She leaned closer, fingers brushing one stem as she inhaled its soft, calming fragrance. A faint smile tugged at her lips—peaceful, almost wistful.
Then a voice rose above the bustle, sharp and familiar.
"Aaron?"
Aaron froze mid-breath. His glowing eyes flicked through the crowd, scanning instinctively until they landed on a figure weaving easily through the throng—a tall sable with a sleek dark coat that caught glints of sun where it brushed his shoulders. His ears flicked sharply, the right one marked with two neat cartilage piercings, while a pair of thick, rectangular wide-rimmed glasses perched on his muzzle, slightly askew from the jostling crowd. Heterochromatic eyes—one a warm amber, the other an earthy army green—lit with a grin so wide it seemed to part the noise of the market itself.
"River?" Aaron's voice cracked, his expression breaking into a smile so unguarded it startled even him.
They met halfway, weaving around passersby. River clapped a paw against Aaron's shoulder before pulling him into a hug. The embrace was fierce, familiar, and Aaron returned it without hesitation, a laugh bubbling out of him—half disbelief, half joy.
"What are you doing here?" Aaron asked as they pulled back, though River still gripped his shoulders tightly, as if afraid he might vanish.
"Living life, man!" River said with a laugh, shaking his head. "It's been forever. University feels like… another lifetime."
Aaron let out a breathy chuckle, tail flicking faintly behind him. "Yeah… it does." His gaze flicked sideways, softening when it landed on Lily, who had stopped just a step away, watching the reunion with open curiosity.
"Oh—River, this is Lily," Aaron said, his tone gentler now. "I'm her caregiver."
River turned, his smile warm and easy as he offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, Lily. I've heard a lot about Aaron's patience back in the day, so you must be in good hands."
Lily took his hand with a small but genuine smile. "I am. He's… been kind."
Aaron's ears tilted back in faint embarrassment, but the glow in his eyes was steady, almost proud.
He hesitated, then looked between them. "Would you mind if River joined us at the café? Just for a bit—to catch up?"
Lily's smile widened just slightly, the lavender still clutched gently in her fingers. "Of course. I'd like that."
Together, they wove through the crowd once more, River slipping easily into stride beside them, filling the space with a kind of effortless presence. He and Aaron exchanged quick bursts of conversation—half-laughed jokes about professors they'd hated, snippets of names and memories that seemed to leap out of the past like they'd been waiting for this moment. Lily listened quietly, her eyes darting between them, absorbing the rare sight of Aaron so unguarded.
The café came into view, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze. When they stepped inside, the familiar bell chimed overhead, and a rush of warmth enveloped them—freshly roasted coffee, buttered scones, the faint hum of soft music weaving under the chatter of other patrons.
They found a corner booth by the window, its cushions sunlit and worn from use. Lily slipped in first, leaning her crutch against the wall, Aaron settling beside her protectively. River slid into the seat across from them, leaning forward with an eager brightness.
River adjusted his glasses with a quick push of one claw, grinning. "Man, you look… different. Not just the glowing eyes thing—which, wow, by the way—but calmer. Like you finally found where you're meant to be."
Aaron tilted his head, caught between amusement and vulnerability. "You always did have a way of cutting straight through, huh?"
Lily glanced at him, curiosity flickering in her gaze, but she didn't interrupt. She reached for the little sugar jar at the table, fiddling with it while listening.
River chuckled. "Hey, it's what I do. You'd vanish in the library for hours, remember? I had to drag you out for food half the time."
Aaron laughed softly, shaking his head. "Some things haven't changed." He nodded toward the cloth bag by his side. "Still end up with too much bread."
Lily snorted at that, and River's grin widened, catching the shared humor.
A waitress arrived with menus, setting down glasses of water. River leaned back, glancing between Aaron and Lily. "So… tell me everything. Where have you been hiding? What's life like these days?"
Aaron exhaled slowly, leaning his arms on the table. His voice was steady, though faintly tinged with wonder. "Different. Hard at times. But… good. Better than I expected."
River nodded thoughtfully, as if storing the words away. "I want to hear all of it," he said with quiet sincerity.
And for the first time in a long while, Aaron found himself wanting to share.
For a while, the café was filled with their laughter. The sound spilled easily over the clinking of cups and the murmur of other conversations, weaving its own small warmth into the room. Aaron and River leaned in across the table like no time had passed at all—swapping stories of sleepless study sessions, professors with impossible expectations, and the kind of exhaustion that left them laughing deliriously in library corridors.
Aaron spoke about the long, uneven road that had led him toward caregiving—the moments he'd nearly given up, the quiet victories that reminded him why he stayed. His voice carried both pride and vulnerability, each word painting a picture Lily hadn't heard before.
River, in turn, talked about shifting from computer science into engineering, his paws sketching circuits in the air, glasses slipping down his nose as he spoke with a restless energy that made his pierced ear flick every so often, his eyes lighting with that rare spark of someone who loved their craft deeply.
Lily listened with quiet attentiveness, sipping her tea in small, measured tastes. Sometimes she tilted her head, her voice gentle but curious.
"What kind of projects?"
"Was Aaron always like that back then?"
Each question made River grin wider. "Always like that? Absolutely. Focused as a laser when he cared about something, stubborn as stone when he didn't. You should've seen the way he argued with one professor—we thought he'd get kicked out."
Aaron groaned, hiding his face briefly behind his hand, though his glowing eyes betrayed his smile. Lily's soft laugh joined River's, bridging the years of memory with the present moment.
Hours passed like minutes. Their cups emptied and refilled, the steam curling upward as the afternoon light shifted golden, then mellowed into a honeyed glow across the window beside them. Shadows stretched long across the café floor. For Aaron, it felt like being pulled into two worlds at once—the life he'd once had, and the one he was living now, both equally real, both equally dear.
Eventually, River glanced at his watch and sighed, the sound reluctant. "I should get going. Got some deadlines waiting to strangle me if I don't head home."
Aaron rose with him, the motion instinctive. Their hug was firm, steady, the kind that said more than words could carry. "It was really good seeing you again," Aaron said quietly, though there was laughter in his tone. "We should do this more often—like old times."
River's grin softened into something almost tender. "Definitely. Don't disappear on me this time, alright?"
Aaron's ears twitched faintly, his voice steady. "I won't."
With one last smile at Lily—a warm, respectful acknowledgment—and a wave, River stepped out of the café. The bell chimed as the door closed, and just like that, he was swallowed back into the flow of the market outside, another face in the crowd.
Aaron and Lily lingered a little longer, sipping the last of their drinks in a comfortable hush. The café seemed quieter now, the absence of River's bright energy noticeable but not unwelcome. When they finally stood to leave, the day had begun its slow descent.
Outside, the air was cooler, touched with the faint crispness of evening. The sun dipped low toward the horizon, painting the cobblestones in long, dark shadows and bathing the market's bright stalls in an amber glow. The crowd had thinned, leaving the square less frantic, more hushed—like the world was exhaling after a long day.
"That was nice," Lily said softly as they walked, her crutch tapping lightly against the stones. Her voice carried a thoughtful calm, as though she were tucking the moment carefully away.
Aaron's smile lingered, touched with nostalgia. "Yeah… it really was."
They walked on together, unhurried, their steps matching without thought. The lavender bundle Lily carried bobbed gently with each movement, its scent rising faintly between them. Behind them, River made his way down another path entirely—yet for a brief few hours, their lives had crossed again, and the warmth of it lingered like sunlight that refused to fade.
They left the café with the sky painted in broad strokes of orange and violet, the last threads of daylight burning low against the horizon. The hum of the market had softened, vendors packing away their wares, wooden stalls creaking as signs were folded and crates stacked. The air carried the mingled scents of cooling bread, spices, and the faint smoke of lanterns being lit.
Aaron carried their bag of groceries in one hand, the other hovering near Lily's shoulder—not quite touching, but always close, as though a steadying presence in itself. Lily moved carefully over the uneven cobblestones, her crutch tapping in its familiar rhythm, each step precise. She was tired, she could feel it in her legs and shoulders, but it was the kind of tired that felt well-earned.
"You okay?" Aaron asked softly after a few blocks, tilting his head toward her.
"I'm fine," she replied, a small smile curling her lips. "Just a little worn out. But it's… a good kind of tired."
Aaron chuckled, low and warm. "That's how you know the day was worth it."
They rounded a corner and nearly bumped into two familiar figures—David and Carla, strolling back from a bakery. David carried a paper bag tucked in one arm, the smell of sugar and butter rising temptingly from it.
"Well, look who we've got here," David said with a grin, freeing his hand to clap Aaron on the shoulder. "You two causing trouble in the market again?"
Aaron laughed. "Not this time. Just groceries. Ran into an old friend from university, ended up talking for hours."
"Oh, that's wonderful," Carla said warmly, her eyes drifting to Lily with a softness that always made her feel seen. "And you, dear? Did you enjoy yourself?"
Lily nodded, her fingers tightening just slightly around her crutch. "I did. It was… lively, but in a good way. And it was nice seeing Aaron so happy catching up."
Something flickered across Carla's face—gentle, knowing. She reached out, briefly squeezing Lily's free hand, her touch grounding. "I'm glad."
David hefted the bag playfully. "We picked up a few things for later. You two are welcome to join us once we're back."
Aaron glanced at Lily, reading the slight dip in her shoulders, the quiet fatigue in her posture. "Maybe after dinner," he said gently. "Lily needs to rest a bit."
Carla gave a knowing smile. "Of course. There'll be plenty left when you're ready."
They exchanged goodbyes, parting at the crossroads—David and Carla taking the bakery-scented path home, Aaron and Lily continuing their slower, quieter walk beneath the growing dark.
Streetlamps flickered on one by one, scattering golden pools of light along the stone. Their footsteps echoed softly in the spaces between. Lily found her mind replaying the moments—David's easy grin, Carla's hand in hers, River's laughter in the café. Each one was different, yet all threaded together into something whole.
"You seemed really happy back there," she said after a while, her voice cutting gently through the hush of the street.
Aaron glanced sideways at her, surprised but not startled. "Yeah… it was good. I didn't realize how much I missed him until today. We went through a lot together during training. He's one of the people who kept me sane when everything felt impossible."
Lily listened, her brows knitting slightly at the weight she heard beneath his words. "It's nice," she said softly. "Seeing that part of you. The way you light up when you're around old friends."
Aaron's mouth curved into a half-smile—not the playful grin he'd worn with River, but something quieter, tenderer. "I guess I don't usually show that side much anymore. Life's… been different."
Lily didn't press. She had learned to hear silence as much as words. Instead, she said gently, "I liked seeing it."
They let the words settle, walking in a companionable hush as the last streaks of sunset slipped away. By the time they reached the Martes' home, the windows glowed warmly against the gathering night.
Inside, the house was filled with familiar comfort—the faint scent of wood polish, the low creak of the floorboards, the hum of a kettle forgotten earlier in the day. Lily leaned her crutch against the wall with a relieved sigh and sank into the nearest chair, stretching her back. Aaron unpacked their groceries with quiet efficiency, laying apples, bread, and jam on the counter in neat order.
Not long after, David and Carla returned, their voices carrying laughter ahead of them as they came through the door. They set the bakery's bag beside Aaron's neat pile of vegetables, the rich smell of sugar and fruit filling the air.
"Perfect timing," Carla said, pulling a small box free and setting it in front of Lily. "We thought you might like this."
Lily opened it carefully, and her breath caught. Inside was a delicate tart topped with glossy strawberries that gleamed like jewels. Her eyes widened. "Oh—thank you."
David winked. "Consider it a reward for surviving the market crowds."
Aaron chuckled, filling the kettle once more. "I'll make tea. Then it'll be a proper evening."
The kettle began to hum, steam curling softly into the warm kitchen air. Lily leaned back, letting her body sink into the chair, her eyes half-closed. The day replayed itself in her mind—the press of the market, the unexpected reunion, the joy in Aaron's laughter, and now this: the Martes' warmth gathering around her like a blanket.
She realized, with a soft swell of certainty, that she was beginning to see Aaron differently—not just as her caregiver, but as someone she was truly glad to know.
When Aaron set a steaming mug into her hands a few minutes later, she looked up, her smile small but earnest. "Thanks… for today."
His glowing blue eyes caught the lamplight, soft and steady, as he gave her that gentle smile she'd come to recognize.
"Anytime."