The breeze was soft today, as if the world itself had slowed down to listen.
Kael didn't move. He sat beside the quiet tree near the old pond where the koi no longer swam. His notebook was open, pen resting in his hand, but the page remained blank.
He wasn't waiting for words. He was waiting for her.
A sound, a breath too familiar to mistake, rustled the grass behind him. He didn't look back yet.
"You didn't follow," she said.
"No," he replied. "I wanted to see if you'd come back."
Rin stepped into the clearing, her footsteps more hesitant than usual. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say either—but the silence between them wasn't awkward. It was earned.
She sat beside him. Not close, not far. Just enough.
He glanced at her. "You found something."
"I found… me. Or part of me," she answered. "But it's not done yet. I think I was afraid that if I remembered everything, I'd forget who I am now."
Kael nodded. "Maybe we're all just walking contradictions."
Rin let out a breath that was half-laugh. "You sound like the Threadwriter."
"I might've read his work."
She turned to look at him, eyes soft but unreadable. "Do you believe in that? That stories can change who we are?"
He met her gaze. "I think stories are who we are."
For a moment, the wind moved around them like an unseen hand turning a page.
Kael picked up his pen and finally wrote one line:
"She returned, and with her, the silence learned to speak again."
Rin read it and didn't say anything.
Instead, she smiled—and in that small smile was forgiveness, memory, and maybe… the beginning of something real.