The pages of the worn book spread open on Liora's lap, their delicate illustrations catching the soft glow of the rooftop lights. She traced the intricate drawings of flowers and their meanings, each one a whispered secret waiting to be uncovered.
Mara watched her quietly, her eyes reflecting the gentle flicker of fairy lights above. There was a softness there now, something like hope weaving its way through the shadows.
"Do you believe in fate?" Mara asked suddenly, her voice low, almost hesitant.
Liora looked up, surprised by the question. She hesitated before answering. "I don't know. I used to think life was just a series of random moments... but now, I'm not so sure."
Mara smiled, the curve of her lips gentle but sure. "Sometimes, the smallest moments lead us to the biggest changes. A glance, a note, a flower—like a language only a few understand."
Liora's heart quickened, the warmth from Mara's words settling deep inside her. She wondered what it meant—that feeling of being seen, truly seen, after so long in silence.
The air between them grew quieter, charged with an invisible tension that neither dared to name. Mara reached out slowly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Liora's forehead, her touch feather-light and tender.
Liora's breath caught, the world narrowing to that single moment—the softness of Mara's fingers, the steady gaze meeting hers.
"I'm scared," Liora confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of what this might mean... and scared of what I've been running from."
Mara's hand lingered for a heartbeat longer before she took Liora's fingers in hers, a silent promise woven into the warmth of their touch.
"Whatever comes next," Mara said gently, "we'll face it together."
For the first time in a long while, Liora felt the tight grip of loneliness loosen, replaced by a fragile thread of trust.
The language of flowers was no longer just about goodbyes—it wa
s about beginnings, too.