Lincoln Park was one of Elexer's rare green havens, its benches heavy with quiet stories.
Our footsteps clicked lightly on the cobblestones, a steady rhythm beneath the soft hum of the city.
The air was alive with scent: fresh grass from the park's left side, where families picnicked and children played by the water; the faint perfume of flowers clinging to the fence; and, drifting through it all, the warm sweetness of roasted nuts from somewhere unseen.
A black-and-white cat wandered past, tail swaying like a pendulum — each step unhurried, precise, as if time itself had slowed to match its pace.
I might have ignored it entirely, if not for what caught me
Leo crouched slowly, hands trembling as if the cat might dissolve beneath his touch.
There was a fragile wonder in him, as though he were rediscovering something he never knew existed—and it made my chest tighten.
"What's the name of this animal?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated, caught off guard by how much the simple question unsettled me.
My body stayed still, but my thoughts tumbled.
"It's a cat," I said calmly, my tone even, almost disarming even myself.
A cat? …Not what I imagined." His smile bloomed—soft, genuine—lighting up those burning eyes.
The tension left his frame, shoulders easing as if my answer alone had lifted something from him.
His gaze followed the creature with quiet fascination, memorizing every flick of its tail.
He then stood, rising slowly, hands loose at his sides. His steps were cautious at first, then steadier, carrying him across the brick-paved ground.
For a while We walked in silence, the park's hum softening into something gentler — a rhythm that felt like it belonged to us alone
---
We passed an ice-cream stand crowded with children. They leaned forward on their toes, sticky fingers clutching cones, shouts cutting through the hiss of the machines.
"What's going on there?" he asked, chin tilting slightly toward the stand.
His eyes stayed on the children, studying them as if they were some rare species. Their laughter reflected in his gaze—not simple curiosity, but a hunger, the kind that comes when you fear a moment might vanish before it's truly seen.
"They're selling ice cream—something the kids here can't get enough of," I said, glancing toward the stand.
"Ice cream? What's that?" he asked, eyes widening.
"You'll like it," I said with a faint smile,walking toward the stand. "Come on, let's get some before it's gone."
He followed quietly, curiosity written in every step.
We bought one each, the cold sweetness spilling warmth through the day's heat.
He took a careful bite, eyes widening as though he'd just tasted sunlight.
"This is… so good," he murmured, wonder curling at the edges of his voice.
I noticed a boy from the slums. Small, thin, eyes fixed on the cone in Leo's hand like it was the rarest treasure in the world.
My fingers brushed my wallet, hesitation tightening my chest—but before I could act, Leo knelt down.His movements were fluid, deliberate, carrying a quiet authority in their calm. He took the boy's small hand, guiding him gently toward the stand.
The boy shuffled forward, tiny, uncertain steps, while Leo remained steady, protective. For a second, the boy's small reflection trembled in Leo's eyes—fragile, but whole.
Without a word, he motioned toward the cones, slipping coins into the vendor's palm. The vendor handed one over, its swirl already threatening to drip. The boy took it with both hands, staring at the treat as if it were treasure.
He hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes flicking up at Leo, searching for permission.
When Leo gave a small nod, the boy leaned in, tongue brushing the cold sweetness—and a grin burst across his face, cracking the city's grey chill wide open.
Leo's palm ruffled the child's tangled black hair—a gesture soft as a promise. Then he rose, walking back with another cone for himself, the simple act radiating warmth amid the park's bustle.
Watching him then, I knew—without a single doubt—he was something rare. And for the first time in a long while, I wanted to stay long enough to see what that more of it.
---
Feeling lighter, we wandered toward the lake bordered by a low fence, where ducks drifted lazily across the water, their mirrored forms shattering into ripples with each unhurried glide.
The space brushed the lake's edge, where gentle waves lapped softly against the border, leaves whispering in the mild wind—as if even the world had paused to listen.
People sat in easy comfort in benches, eyes drawn toward the lake. Children wheeled past on bicycles, their tires singing against the pavement, while others ran laughing across the open paths, their voices mingling with the city's distant hum.
"This strawberry one… it's so good. Almost like the vanilla I had earlier," he said between slow bites, shoulders relaxing as if each taste eased some hidden weight.
"Do you know how they make these?" he asked,thoughtfully.
"I'm not really sure," I admitted, glancing at the lake as the breeze lifted the edge of my hood. "All I know is they're frozen after they're made…"
He looked pleased for a brief moment, the ice-cream cone pausing halfway to his mouth before he lowered it. His fingers drummed lightly against the wafer, as if already turning something over in his mind.
"Then I'll find out someday," he said quietly, lifting his chin, voice steady. "I'd like to make one on my own."
There was a quiet burn in his eyes—not the flicker of a passing thought, but the steady glow of someone already charting the steps ahead.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a quiet tension flickering beneath his calm. The lake shimmered in his eyes, the horizon reflected there as if it were calling him to move.
Then, without warning, he leaned back slightly—shoulders squared yet hesitant—as though he'd stumbled upon a thought mid-step.
"You've probably noticed how I look at everything like it's new… and yet, you haven't said a word," he said, voice low, almost hesitant.
His fingers brushed the cone's edge, betraying a nervous energy he couldn't quite hide.
The air seemed to shift between us, caught between curiosity and caution.His words invited me closer, but something in me chose to keep the moment gentle—to let the sunlight linger instead of pulling clouds into the sky.
"Well," I said softly, resting my hands on the cool iron fence, "I could see you were genuinely happy. And that… that's a good thing."
My fingers curled around the rail, searching for the right words. "I didn't want to interrupt it. Sometimes happiness is fragile. It deserves to be noticed, not questioned. Especially here in this park."
There was a flicker in his eyes—part gratitude, part sorrow.
"You're right," he murmured, shifting his weight against the railing. His gaze drifted across the lake; the surface shimmered with light, but his eyes seemed far away.
For a while, the wind spoke for us, brushing gently through the trees.
"My name's Leo," he said at last, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips.
He angled slightly toward me, as though offering more than just his name. "What's yours?"
"My name… Neriah," I replied, the word falling almost like a whisper. My fingers tightened briefly around the iron rail, grounding me as my gaze held his.
He nodded slowly. "Neriah… that's a wonderful name."
"I just arrived this morning, and honestly… I still can't believe I made it here. This city—it's so different from where I came from."
The words hung in the air, the breeze wrapping around them—suspended between us.
He shifted slightly, shoulders easing as his eyes lingered on the lake—drinking in every detail, savoring it all. My mind spun. His uniform said it all—too precise for this place.
And that unbroken wonder, that quiet awe, struck me like a jolt.
"Since that's the case, how about I give you a personal short tour of the city?" I said, turning to him. "I was just about to explore it myself, but everything feels brighter when you're not doing it alone."
I meant it lightly, but the truth sat deeper—it was a step I hadn't taken in a long time. Reaching out. Letting someone in.
He quickly turned to me.
"Wait… seriously? You'd actually do that?"
His voice held equal parts disbelief and awe—a quiet spark breaking through the calm, raw and unfiltered.
"Yes," I said softly.
I turned away from the lake,slowly pulling back my hood as the wind brushed across my face—cool, grounding, real.
"…wanna tag along?" My voice came out quieter than I meant, carrying a hope I hadn't planned to show.
"Yeah!… of course! City tour, here we go!" he said, grin wide and unrestrained, energy practically radiating into the air.
Without a moment's hesitation, he strode ahead, each step light and confident.
I followed, the rhythm between us finding its own quiet harmony.
Somewhere ahead, the city waited—but for once, it didn't feel endless. It felt like the beginning of something.
The day stretched ahead of us, the park fading behind as the heartbeat of the city grew louder.