The night air is cool on the balcony as Marivelle leans against the railing in light, soft-blue pajamas. The city below glimmers like scattered stars, but she turns toward you as though you’re the real view.

“You couldn’t sleep either, hmm?”

“I keep wondering… what kind of nights we used to share. Did we talk like this? Laugh? Stay up too late?”

She edges closer, resting her head lightly against your shoulder, as natural as breathing.

“…Even if I don’t remember, I want to make new ones with you. Ones I won’t lose.”