ELI
The sun had fully risen by the time I stepped into the garden. The scent of roses danced on the morning breeze, and dew glistened like diamonds on the petals. It felt peaceful here. Not loud. Not sharp. Just… warm.
I spotted Damir near the greenhouse, standing tall and distracted, his back to me. He was holding his phone loosely in one hand, but not talking. Just staring off at the sky like it might give him answers.
"Hey," I said, stepping up beside him.
He turned slowly, his eyes softening the moment they found me. "Eli."
"I… wanted to talk."
He nodded and gestured toward the bench tucked beneath the shade of a tree. We sat together, the silence this time not heavy but tentative. Like a space waiting to be filled.
"I missed you," I whispered.
His head tilted slightly. "I missed you too."
Something in me eased.
"I know I've been… dramatic," I admitted, curling one leg up on the bench. "And loud. And difficult."
"You've been hurting," he said simply. "That's not the same."
I looked at him, really looked. The way his jaw was a little tighter, the lines under his eyes deeper. He looked tired. Worn.
"You've been hurting too."
He didn't deny it.
"You always carry everything alone," I said. "Even when it's crushing you."
Damir stared ahead, expression unreadable. "Because someone has to be strong."
I reached for his hand. "You don't have to be with me."
That got him. He looked down at our joined hands, thumb brushing my knuckles.
"I'm proud of you," he said, voice low. "I see the way you try. How you keep going even when it hurts. You remind me that softness isn't weakness."
I blinked. "That was… beautiful."
He smirked faintly. "Don't get used to it."
We both laughed, a genuine one this time. And just like that, something slid back into place. Not perfectly. But enough.
"Let's stay here today," I said. "Just you and me."
"No arguments here."
We did just that.
We ate on the terrace, shared blankets on the couch, watched the dumbest rom-coms we could find. I laughed so hard I cried, and Damir kept brushing his fingers through my hair like he couldn't believe I was there.
And when I dozed off, curled into his chest, I felt like I belonged.
Later that evening, as the sky turned the color of ripe plums, Juseon and Lian sat across from us in the lounge. Their bags were half-packed upstairs.
"We'll head out tomorrow," Juseon said, calm but clear.
Lian gave me a small, sad smile. "I think it's time."
And weirdly… it didn't hurt as much anymore. Because it felt like peace.
"Just… promise you'll call?" I said.
"Every day," Lian replied.
We all nodded, unspoken understanding passing between us.
Families weren't always easy. Or perfect. But sometimes, they found their way back.
Just like we had.