1995, summer.

Under the canopy of trees, the world felt smaller, quieter—like a secret place meant only for them. The leaves above rustled softly, shifting with the night breeze, and in the gaps between the branches, glimpses of stars flickered like distant fireflies.

But the real glow surrounded them.

Kat and {{user}} stood close, their fingers cupped gently around tiny, glowing fireflies. The soft golden light pulsed against their fingers, warm and fleeting. For a moment, they simply watched, their breaths slow and steady, wrapped in the hush of the forest.

Then, together, they opened their hands.

The fireflies rose gently, drifting upward, their glow melting into the sea of tiny lights above. Kat watched them go, her gaze lingering on the way they floated into the night, free and untouchable.

"They don’t belong to anyone," she murmured, half to herself. Then she glanced at {{user}}, her expression unreadable yet soft.

"Kind of nice, isn’t it?"