The mountains of Sahana stood quiet and somber beneath the fading light. The air was thinner up here, crisp and cold, as if every breath stole a little more of his warmth. Reyan had come here to disappear—just like he did every time the weight in his chest grew too heavy to carry.
But today was different.
Because someone was crying.
She stood a few feet away from the trail, barely visible in the golden shadow of the setting sun. Her shoulders shook, lips trembling, but her sobs made no sound. Her hair framed her face like a curtain of auburn silk, and her fingers clutched the strap of her camera bag as if holding on to it might anchor her.
Reyan froze mid-step.
The last thing he expected on this isolated cliffside was a stranger. Let alone a crying one.
But there was something else—something he couldn't place. An ache that mirrored his own. Her pain felt… familiar.
He took a hesitant step forward. Then another. Words wouldn't come, so he did the only thing he could: he reached into his coat pocket and offered her a handkerchief.
She blinked up at him through teary lashes, startled. Then, slowly, she took it.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice breaking like cracked porcelain. Her hands trembled as she dabbed her cheeks. Her breath still came in uneven gasps.
They sat on a worn stone bench a few steps away from the trail. The mountains stretched around them, quiet sentinels to their silence. Reyan didn't speak. He didn't trust himself to.
Eventually, she did.
"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to break down like that. But after seeing you here... something just cracked. It felt like I was crying with two hearts."
His head snapped toward her.
Two hearts.
The words rang through his skull like a bell tolling in an empty chapel. Her eyes were soft, but they held depths he didn't dare look too long into.
"I'm Liora," she added with a small, watery smile. "Twenty-one. I'm a photographer. I came here for a project. And… maybe to find air again."
He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Reyan. I live nearby."
The silence that followed was heavier now. Yet, strangely comforting.
Liora let out a soft chuckle. "This place is beautiful," she said, her tone lighter, as if trying to shift the mood. "Even if it feels a little forgotten. Like an old painting—faded, but still… meaningful."
Reyan stared ahead, watching the sun sink behind the ridges. "I used to come here with my parents. It was… our place."
"I can see why."
Her voice carried a gentle warmth, like a fireplace left burning just long enough to keep you from freezing. Reyan didn't understand why she wasn't pulling away from him like everyone else. Didn't understand why her presence didn't feel intrusive.
Then she asked it.
"Would you mind showing me around a little? I want to capture more before it gets dark."
A tour.
Of course, she would ask that.
Reyan stiffened. He shouldn't have come this far. This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to let go today. To disappear quietly, without witnesses.
But now she was here.
And her eyes, filled with curiosity and something strangely fragile, made it impossible to say no.
"…Sure," he said, before he could stop himself.
They walked in silence through the winding paths of Sahana, past leafless trees etched in silhouette, past forgotten wooden stalls that once sold paintings and postcards to tourists. Liora paused every so often, kneeling to capture wildflowers growing between cracked stones or the way the dying sunlight painted gold across the ridge.
Reyan watched her more than he watched the path.
There was something about her—about the way she saw the world. Every time she clicked the shutter, her entire body leaned into the moment. Like she wasn't just capturing the view, but collecting memories she refused to let fade.
They stopped by a stream near the edge of the mountain.
Reyan hesitated, then said, "This place… it mattered. My parents used to bring me here when I was little."
Liora's expression softened. "Can we sit here for a bit?"
They sat on a wide stone beside the flowing water. Liora leaned forward, snapping pictures of the glistening surface. Reyan stared at the stream and let the memories flow. His mother's laugh. His father's hand on his head. The warmth of family that once shielded him from the world's cold.
It was all gone now.
She turned to him. "Dinner?"
He blinked. "What?"
"I'm starving. There's a food stall just down the path—I saw it earlier. My treat."
Before he could protest, she was already walking. Reyan followed.
The stall served lentil stew and sweet rice cakes. They sat on low stools under string lights that flickered weakly in the dusk. Liora talked. About photos she had taken. About silence that spoke louder than words. About chasing light with her lens and finding pieces of herself in each shot.
Reyan listened.
He barely touched his food, but he memorized the way she wrinkled her nose when the rice was too sweet, the way she smiled without realizing it, the way her words filled the silence he'd grown used to.
She reminded him of his mother—not in looks, but in soul.
And that terrified him.
They walked again, eventually finding a bench near a cliff edge. The moon was just beginning to rise. The world felt softer in the dark.
Liora sat down slowly. Her hands clenched together in her lap.
"I wanted to ask you something," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Do you think it's possible to feel two emotions at once? Like… light and dark. Joy and sorrow."
Reyan turned to her, caught in the quiet storm of her gaze.
She continued, haltingly. "For a while now, I've felt things I can't explain. Like someone else's emotions are inside me. Like I'm crying for more than myself. Laughing for more than my joy. It's… confusing. And today, seeing you—it felt like… something cracked open. Like my heart split."
She pressed her hands to her chest. "Right now, even now, I feel like I'm carrying two hearts."
Reyan's vision blurred.
The air thinned.
It couldn't be. It couldn't. And yet…
The moments he tried to end everything. The warmth that stopped him. The invisible pull that kept yanking him back. Every time he stood at the edge—
Had it been her?
Was this the reason?
"What do you think?" she asked softly.
Reyan opened his mouth.
But no words came out.
Terror gripped him—real, suffocating terror. He couldn't face this. Not now. Not yet.
So he stood.
And he ran.
Down the path. Away from her.
He didn't look back.
He didn't see her flinch. Or the way her lips parted in shock. Or how she stared after him, confused, frightened, alone.
He left her there.
Left behind the girl who might have saved him before she even knew his name.
Left behind the one thing he still had—his violin, leaning quietly against the bench like a forgotten promise.