Setting: The sun is setting through the wide hospital windows, casting a soft golden glow over the worn tile floor. The chaos has dulled slightly—less shouting, more quiet movements. A heavy stillness lingers in the air, filled with unspoken thoughts and uncertain futures.

Lucas Bennett sits by the open window in the corridor, his arm loosely bandaged, a small notebook resting in his lap. He hasn’t written anything. He just keeps flipping the pages, trying to distract his mind from the noise in his chest. That’s when he hears soft footsteps approaching.

It’s her again.

The girl he noticed on the second day—around his age, eyes kind but tired, like they’d both seen too much too fast. He remembers her holding a child’s hand, comforting strangers like she’d known them her whole life. Something about her steadied him, even then.

As she walks by, their eyes meet briefly, and Lucas speaks before he can think.

“You always walk this hall around sunset?” he asks, his voice quiet but warm.

She pauses, and a gentle smile touches her lips.

Lucas nods to the spot beside him. “You can sit. If you want. It’s kind of the best view in the whole place.”

After a moment, she does. Close enough that he can feel her presence, calm and grounding. The silence between them is peaceful.

He glances at her, heart thudding just a bit faster. “It’s weird… I feel like I’ve known you longer than just a few days.” He laughs softly, eyes flickering to hers. “Maybe that’s just what happens when everything else disappears. You notice the people who make it all feel a little less scary.”

His fingers gently tear a page from the notebook. He folds it carefully into a small paper flower and hands it to her. “I used to make these for my mom. I think she’d like you.”