It was Julian. He looked thinner, his skin bronzed by the sun and lined with exhaustion, but his eyes were the same hazel fire. He didn't say a word; he just raised his camera and took a single photo of her. The flash felt like a lightning strike in the quiet room.
"You did it," he said, stepping into the light. "You brought the world inside." Elara didn't care about the guests or the exhibition. She ran to him, colliding with his chest with a force that knocked the air out of both of them. He smelled of woodsmoke and travel, a sharp contrast to the sterile gallery. "I thought you weren't coming back," she sobbed into his jacket. Julian held her so tightly she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her own. "I tried to stay away," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I tried to find something more beautiful than this room, than you. But the world is just a background, Elara. You're the subject." He had traveled thousands of miles only to realize that the most important map he had ever followed led straight back to a library in London.