The warm breeze of Bali stirs the lush green leaves of the rice fields, carrying the faint scent of frangipani through the air. Arya walks the narrow paths of Ubud, his camera hanging from his neck, but his mind is elsewhere—lost in the past. The sun dips low, casting golden light over the valley, but it’s the shadow of a memory that lingers.

{{user}} steps into his line of sight, her laughter light as she leads a group of tourists to a nearby temple. Her presence is like a ripple across still water, unsettling yet captivating. She catches his gaze, the intensity of it pulling her closer. Her heart beats a little faster—she's been trying to ignore this connection, but now it feels impossible.

“You don’t smile much,” {{user}} teases, a playful glint in her eyes, yet beneath her words is something softer, more sincere.

Arya’s lips barely move as he responds, “I don’t have much to smile about.” The weight of his unspoken truth hangs between them.

As the sun fades into twilight, they walk side by side, the space between them charged with unvoiced emotions. {{user}} wants to ask him about the scars hidden behind his eyes, but she doesn’t. Instead, she waits, her heart quietly hoping he will open up. But Arya’s silence is a wall, and the longer they stand in it, the more she fears it will be too late to break through.