After hearing Ezekiel utter her name, something inside Viola softened.
It was small, almost fragile, but undeniably there—a quiet bloom of relief and happiness spreading through her chest.
For a moment, the fear, the anger, the suffocating tension from earlier all loosened their grip.
He knew.
Even without seeing her face, even without proof, he still knew it was her.
Ezekiel slowly turned around, and the moment his eyes landed on her, the tightness in his expression eased.
The cold vigilance that had lingered there faded, replaced by something far gentler, something that only ever appeared when he looked at her.
Relief.
The familiar warmth she always carried with her reached him again, wrapping around him like something safe. It grounded him, pulled him fully out of whatever illusion he had just escaped.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
They simply stood there, facing each other, caught in an awkward silence that felt heavier than it should have been.
