Aira couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her name written in careful ink, resting among countless others. The letters didn't accuse her. They didn't explain anything either.
They simply existed.
Just like her.
The park felt different at night.
Not darker—just heavier.
The trees stood motionless, their leaves refusing to rustle even when the wind passed through them. The lamps along the path glowed dimly, casting soft circles of light that never overlapped.
Aira walked slowly, feeling the ground beneath her shoes.
It was soft.
Not muddy.Not wet.
Just… yielding.
As if the earth remembered being moved.
She found Elin near the center of the park, standing exactly where the paths met.
"You knew," Aira said.
Elin nodded.
"I hoped you'd notice on your own."
Aira clenched her fists. "How long have you known?"
Elin looked up at the sky.
"I don't remember learning it," she said. "I just remember being tired of pretending."
Aira knelt and pressed her palm against the ground.
It was cold.
The same cold as Elin's hand.
Her breath caught.
"This place…" Aira whispered. "It feels wrong."
Elin crouched beside her.
"This city doesn't like being disturbed," she said gently. "It prefers stillness."
"Why?" Aira asked. "Why does it keep us here?"
Elin hesitated.
Then she answered honestly.
"Because no one asked to leave."
They walked deeper into the park, toward a section where the lights never reached properly. The shadows there felt thick, layered, as if night had settled more heavily in that place.
Aira noticed something half-buried near the base of a tree.
Wood.
She brushed away the soil with her hands.
A flat surface.
A seam.
Her pulse quickened.
Elin didn't stop her.
"You don't have to open it," Elin said quietly.
Aira looked up. "Have you?"
Elin shook her head.
"I was afraid," she admitted. "If I opened it… I wouldn't have a reason to stay anymore."
Aira stared at the shape beneath the dirt.
It wasn't large.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was ordinary.
And that frightened her more than anything.
Aira stood.
"I don't remember choosing this," she said. "I don't remember agreeing to stay."
Elin smiled sadly.
"No one does."
She reached out, placing her cold hand over Aira's chest.
"Do you feel that?"
Aira froze.
The weight.
The pressure beneath her ribs.
Not pain.
Not breathlessness.
Just something missing.
"I think," Elin said softly,"that part of us already let go."
The city lights flickered again.
From a distance, the buildings seemed to lean inward, watching.
Waiting.
Aira looked down at the ground one last time.
She realized something then.
The city wasn't holding them.
They were holding themselves.
Aira stepped back from the buried door.
"I'm tired," she said.
Elin's expression softened.
"So was I," she replied.
They stood together in silence as the night stretched on, unbroken.
Above them, the city continued to glow.
From the sky, it almost looked peaceful.
Almost like nothing was wrong.