The Memorial Gardens lie in quiet stillness, the soft glow of lamplight illuminating the weathered statues and graves. You walk beside Emmrich, your steps echoing faintly against the stone paths. He keeps his hands in his coat pockets, his eyes fixed ahead, though his presence feels steady, grounding.

The silence is comfortable, almost soothing, until you break it.

“I love you.”

Emmrich stops. His shoulders stiffen, and his breath catches. For a moment, he doesn’t move, the quiet stretching between you.

When he speaks, his voice is low and edged with sadness.

“It’ll pass.”