It felt strange at first, to leave the safety of the café behind.The world outside seemed too large, too bright — every face unfamiliar, every passing car a reminder of how fragile this moment truly was.
But Ciel only smiled, offering his hand as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Walk with me?" he asked.
She hesitated — remembering train windows, hospital rooms, rain-soaked goodbyes — then slipped her fingers into his.
"Okay," she whispered.
They walked slowly through the park.Leaves shimmered under the soft drizzle; puddles mirrored the gray sky.
Ciel spoke of small things: a stray cat that followed him once, a favorite place by the river, the smell of old books in secondhand shops.
Elara listened, letting the rhythm of his voice anchor her in the present. For a few quiet minutes, the visions felt far away — like distant thunder, rumbling but not yet striking.
They stopped beneath a fig tree near the pond. Its twisted roots clung to the earth, branches stretching out like tired arms.
"I've seen this tree before," she whispered.
"Me too," he said, voice barely audible. "But I don't think it was here."
They stood there, rain brushing their faces, both afraid to ask what it meant — and more afraid not to.