Three days had passed.
Three days since Sarah opened her eyes beneath a sunlight that felt nothing like the sun of Marley.
Three days since Sasha's laughter, Connie's stories, and Jean's sighs became part of her daily rhythm.
Three days—not long by time's measure—yet long enough to carve a quiet shift inside her soul, one she had not felt in years.
On the morning of the third day, the familiar noise of the headquarters returned.
Hange had come back from the capital—bringing reports, decisions, rumors… and something else.
An eye that watched.
An eye that waited.
Sarah, still bruised but strong enough to walk, moved gently through the corridors, as if afraid she might wake an old memory slumbering inside the stone walls.
She wore Sasha's loose clothes—far too big, slightly mismatched, but warm in a way that did not belong to fabric.
Warm with the kindness of a girl who gave without asking why.
As she walked the hallways, she did not move like a prisoner, nor as a spy.
She moved like someone searching for something impossible:
A place where an enemy might offer warm soup without poison.
A place where a fortress might feel—just a little—like shelter.
But the heaviness in her chest remained.
Memories.
Ambushes of the heart.
The quieter her body healed, the louder the past tore at her—pulling her back to a name that lived on the edge of every breath.
Layla.
Her sister's eyes stalked her through silence, through laughter, through the sound of water against metal bowls. Even in Sasha's smile, she saw pieces of her.
And in a moment she hadn't planned, Sarah felt something she had avoided for years:
The need to speak.
Because if she didn't… she feared she would break.
She pushed open the door to the meeting room.
Expecting suspicion.
Expecting guarded glances.
But she was met with something else entirely.
Levi's eyes.
Not sharp with hostility.
Not cold with dismissal.
Something else.
Something she could not name, but could feel—like the edge of a blade brushing against truth.
He watched her the way a soldier watches smoke rising from ruins… aware that beneath it, a fire still lives.
A fire that might save—or consume.
Silence filled the room.
Her fingers trembled—but her voice did not.
She breathed in slowly, as if preparing to leap.
"They don't know me," she thought.
"They may judge every word."
"But I need to say this… even if no one believes it."
Her voice came soft, stripped bare:
"Layla… was my younger sister."
No one responded.
She continued anyway, because she wasn't speaking for them—
She was speaking to stay whole.
"Every injustice I watched in Marley… I thought of her. I wanted to protect her, smuggle her away, give her a life that didn't crush people alive."
Her breath wavered.
"The only reason I survived all these years… was because of Layla."
Her words did not sound like confession.
They sounded like bleeding.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then Levi did.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't question.
He simply said, voice low—like metal drawn from its sheath:
"We all tried to protect someone. But protection doesn't always mean they survive."
A shadow crossed his face.
"Sometimes… we break the very things we try to save."
His words were not for her alone.
They ricocheted off ghosts none of them could see.
Silence again.
But this time, it wasn't cold.
It was heavy—like hearts remembering what they lost.
The Bag From the Ship
Hange stepped forward, breaking the tension with surprising gentleness.
"Sarah, we brought your belongings from the ship. Thought you might need them."
Sarah arched a brow, glancing at the dusty bag on the table.
"The ship is still here? It seems even vessels decide to defect to your side."
She brushed her fingers over the bag, whispering:
"Hizuru… the noble neutrality, the quiet smile."
Hange understood but didn't comment.
Sarah opened the bag slowly—
Not like someone retrieving objects,
but like someone opening a door she'd kept tightly shut.
Inside: clothes, scattered notes, simple tools.
And then—
A necklace.
Small. Silver. Heart-shaped.
Dangling from her fingers with the weight of years.
Everyone noticed.
Why would a spy carry something so sentimental?
Why would she bring a heart into enemy territory?
Of course Levi spoke.
He stepped closer—not out of curiosity, but scrutiny.
"The necklace," he said. "Where did you get it?"
A question with teeth.
Sarah lifted it gently.
"It isn't part of my mission. It's simply… what remained."
She met his eyes.
"A keepsake. Nothing more."
Levi didn't smile.
He leaned in, studying the necklace as if it were a contradiction.
"Marley sent a spy," he muttered, "who carries her memories around her neck?"
A dry, cutting scoff.
"What's next? An assassin with a poetry journal?"
Hange laughed softly.
Sarah didn't.
She tucked the necklace back inside, as if placing a wounded animal to rest.
"Marley didn't send me," she said quietly.
"They cornered me—and Layla paid the price."
"The necklace…"
Her voice thinned, fragile but unwavering.
"…is the only thing in my life that never lied to me."
Levi said nothing.
For the first time, no sharp comment rose to his lips.
No suspicion.
No glare.
He simply looked at her—
not as an enemy,
not as a soldier,
but as someone carrying a grief he recognized.
Something shifted in him.
Not admiration.
Not trust.
Not fear.
Something unnamed—
but impossible to ignore.
The Decision
The room calmed.
Sarah sat quietly, shoulders tense, hands clasped—
but her eyes… they were no longer the eyes of the first day.
They held wounds, yes—
but also a softness brave enough to survive.
"I'm not asking you to believe me," she said.
"I only want to save Layla."
She glanced at Connie.
"I understand what it means to lose someone who's still there… but not really there."
Connie swallowed hard.
Hange stepped forward, voice gentler now:
"I'm going to the capital in three days. There will be discussions about you.
I think… it might be better if you come with me."
Sarah blinked.
"Me? Why?"
"Because you speak about Titans like someone who's lived the consequences—not just read them.
And because there is a Titan in the capital who may hold the answer we need."
Then Hange added softly:
"And because you don't want to lose your sister… the way we lost our friends."
Sarah's heartbeat trembled.
Levi crossed his arms.
"Brilliant idea. Let's escort a Marleyan spy straight into the capital. Should we offer her tea too?"
Hange didn't look at him.
"I wasn't asking for permission, Levi. I was informing you."
Levi didn't respond.
But his gaze remained fixed on Sarah.
As if she were a question that refused to be solved.
Eren
Then—
Silence.
But this silence had a different shape.
Eren.
His eyes were distant—like someone standing at the edge of a future only he could see.
When he finally spoke, his voice was nearly a whisper:
"Nothing changes. No matter what we do."
Everyone turned.
Sarah leaned slightly forward, sensing a familiar ache in his tone.
She asked softly:
"Did you touch someone with royal blood?"
His body froze.
A subtle shift.
A withheld breath.
He stared at her—not as an enemy—
but as a mirror of something he feared.
"The future doesn't change," he murmured.
"Only we change as we walk toward it."
He paused.
Then, almost involuntarily, he said:
"You… weren't there."
The room stilled.
Sarah did not flinch.
"Perhaps," she whispered, "that means something hasn't been written yet."
Eren left without another word.
But everyone else kept staring at Sarah.
Not because she'd confronted him—
But because she had said something none of them dared to believe:
Maybe the future… is not sealed.
Flashback — The Necklace
Eighteen-year-old Sarah stood beneath the old olive tree in her grandmother's garden, fingers pressed to her heart as she waited in the soft, fragrant dusk.
Then—
Matis appeared.
He didn't need to sneak out, but he always did.
He wasn't running from poverty—
He was running from the world that tried to dictate whom he could love.
With a quiet smile, he opened a small velvet box.
Inside lay a simple silver heart, engraved with a single letter: M
"I want you to carry something of mine," he whispered,
"when I can't be beside you."
She wore it instantly, as if her pulse had been waiting for it.
"As long as I have this," she breathed,
"no one can take me away from you."
He didn't kiss her.
He didn't need to.
He only looked at her with the kind of devotion that outlives time.
Levi — Present
Back in his room, Levi sat in silence.
He'd seen the necklace only for a heartbeat—
yet that heartbeat refused to leave him.
"Who gave it to her?"
The question gnawed at him.
He tried to dismiss it.
Failed.
He stood, opened the window to the night breeze—
but even the cold air could not cool the quiet fire uncoiling in his chest.
Whatever he felt…
It wasn't mistrust.
Wasn't annoyance.
And it wasn't something he could name.
Not yet.
Reader Questions
Why do you think Levi felt something shift inside him when he carried Sarah?
Do you believe Sarah is hiding a deeper secret—something beyond Layla?
Is the future truly unchangeable… or could Sarah be right? Could something still be rewritten?