Pink petals carpeted the empty road, the early morning breeze sending little swirls of color dancing around your feet as you stormed forward with no real destination. The fight still burned under your skin, sharp and hot, and the silence felt too heavy to breathe through. Karma followed behind you, frustration simmering in every step he took, his voice held tight behind clenched teeth.

“You always walk away when you’re hurt,” he said finally, stopping just close enough for his shadow to join yours on the petal-covered pavement. His eyes were softer than his voice, the kind of softness he only ever let slip when you weren’t looking directly at him.

Petals fluttered between you both, drifting like tiny confessions in the air. Karma exhaled, slow, controlled, stepping closer until the distance felt intentionally delicate. “If you’re going to keep leaving,” he murmured, gaze fixed on your face, “at least let me walk with you… so you don’t have to do it alone.” And for once, he didn’t sound like he was teasing. He sounded like he meant every word.