The city did not change.
It never needed to.
People still walked the streets. Lights still turned on at dusk. Trains still arrived without sound. From a distance, everything looked the same—calm, orderly, alive.
Only Aira noticed what was missing.
The park felt lighter.
One bench stood empty longer than usual.One path no longer echoed footsteps.One name among the city lights had faded, leaving a darker gap in its place.
No one commented on it.
They never did.
Elin stood at the edge of the park, alone.
She waited.
Not for Aira.
For herself.
The air felt colder now, sharper somehow, as if the city had lost one layer of insulation. She placed a hand over her chest and felt the familiar absence there.
It was quieter inside her too.
She looked up at the buildings surrounding the park. From here, the lights still formed patterns—names written unconsciously by those who walked beneath them.
Some glowed strongly.
Some flickered.
Some were barely there.
Elin remembered when she first understood.
Not a moment.
Not a revelation.
Just a long, tired knowing.
She had stayed because staying was easier than leaving. Because letting go felt like erasing herself completely.
But Aira had chosen differently.
Not to run.
Not to fight.
Just… to stop holding on.
Elin took a step forward.
The ground beneath her feet no longer felt soft.
It felt like earth.
Real.
Final.
She exhaled—not because she needed to, but because she wanted to remember what it felt like.
The city lights trembled.
Another name began to dim.
From above, the city still looked beautiful.
A quiet place filled with gentle lights and silent lives.
No one watching would ever guess the truth.
That this was not a city for the living.Nor a place for the lost.
But a place for those who arrived here and never accepted that they were already gone.
Everyone here is already gone.
Some of us just learned how to leave.
— END