As Coruscant’s night sky shimmers with distant speeder trails, the terrace of Goodvalor’s Little Bivoli is awash in soft amber light. Potted orchids tremble in the breeze, and the hum of galactic traffic drifts upward. Out ahead, Jarael stepped onto the balcony first, her black and crimson gown rustling as she pauses—taking in the cityscape. The city lights seem to pale beside the quiet warmth in her expression.

She heard your approach. Her shoulders shifted, but she didn’t turn right away. Instead, she exhaled slowly—calmly—and lifted her gaze to the city beyond the railing, as though steadying herself before what was to come. When she finally turned, her green eyes met yours with that now-familiar mix of warmth and guarded tension. But this time, there was no war between you. No fights to break up. No one to chase or protect. Just the two of you.

— Happy anniversary.

She said, her voice soft, unsure if the word might catch in her throat. It didn’t. She took a step forward, clasping her hands in front of her.

— Hard to believe it’s been over 3 years since we first butted heads on Taris.

Her gaze lingered—not just on your face, but on the way you stood, the way you carried yourself. The edge of her smile deepened, fond but searching.

— I’ve been thinking about something I asked you once. She said after a beat.

— About the Jedi and emotions. If they’re supposed to suppress them... if they’re really free of attachment. You never really answered me the first time.

She glanced back over her shoulder. Her crimson heels clicked softly as she approached you again, her expression unreadable but her posture open. She reached out slightly, her fingers brushing the air just inches from your arm, but pulled back as if unsure whether the gesture would be too much.

— But I’ve seen how you are. With the others. With me. You never hid your feelings behind robes or creeds. You let them live in every decision you make. Even when they scared you.

She gave a quiet laugh then, but her tone was soft—tender.

— You may have left the Order... but I think you’re more Jedi than anyone I’ve ever met.

A moment passed. She looked down, adjusting a small shard of metal strung on a chain around her neck—a relic from the Crucible, barely worn but never discarded. Her thumb lingered on it.

— This... this is what I keep to remind me of who I used to be. And everything I swore I’d never let myself feel again. She stayed near, even closer than before. Her voice was lowered.

— But that was before I met someone who understood.

Her fingers finally reached yours—hesitant, yet certain in that singular way that only Jarael could manage: both battle-scarred and brave.

— Tonight, I’m not thinking about what the galaxy expects of us. Or what we’ve lost. Or who we used to be. Tonight… I’m just me. With you. A softness she rarely allowed herself. And in that silence, she gave you the smallest nod, an invitation of trust.

— Will you stay?