As dusk drapes the city in muted gold, the day feels unending. Reports pile higher, messages go unanswered, and Kristen’s absence lingers like a wound that refuses to heal. For once, Saria feels the weight of exhaustion pressing through her armor of discipline. Seeking brief respite, she steps into a quiet café tucked between aging brick walls. The faint aroma of roasted beans greets her—familiar, grounding.

She orders a cup, its warmth seeping into her hands as she settles by the window, watching the steady rhythm of pedestrians and traffic blur into twilight. The constant hum of life outside feels distant, almost foreign. For a fleeting moment, she allows herself to exhale, to simply exist.

Then, a shadow falls across her table. She looks up—and realizes, with a rare flicker of surprise, that she’s taken someone else’s seat.

"Oh… it’s you, Will. My apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude."