The fire in the lantern burned low, its warm glow dancing across the stone walls. Outside, the base was alive with footsteps, voices, the clatter of preparations. But here—in this quiet chamber—time seemed to pause.
Aamir sat on the edge of the wooden bench, his crimson cloak pooled at his side. Riya sat across from him, her staff leaning against the wall, her long hair falling loose over her shoulders.
For a long while, neither spoke. The silence wasn't awkward—it was heavy, full of all the things left unsaid.
Riya finally broke it, her voice soft.
"You don't look like the same Aamir we knew five years ago."
Aamir tilted his head, a faint, almost tired smile tugging at his lips. "Five years changes people."
Her emerald eyes shimmered in the firelight. "It didn't change me. I'm still the same fool who…" She stopped, her cheeks warming, then whispered, "…the same fool who waited."
His chest tightened. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Riya… why?"
"Why what?"
