The night air feels colder now.
I'm walking alone beneath the quiet glow of the streetlights, the fading sounds of the festival lingering in the distance. The last burst of fireworks has already scattered into the dark sky, leaving behind a smoky haze that drifts lazily through the night. My footsteps echo faintly against the pavement, steady but hollow beneath the quiet hum of the summer breeze.
My chest feels… tight.
Chi's hand was warm. Soft and steady beneath my palm. For a brief moment, it had felt easy—natural—to stand there with her beneath the fireworks. Her fingers curled lightly around mine, her voice calm and steady as we watched the sky light up.
No pressure. No expectations. Just quiet understanding.
And yet…
The warmth of her hand is already fading.