The moonlight painted everything in silver. The weather was neither too hot nor too cold tonight. Rather, in Alice's balcony, it was warmth that enveloped the world around her.
But she still sat frozen on the chair, her whole body trembling with fear. Fear of waking up from a dream. She feared that the moment she moved, this slightest stir would shatter this dream.
Because standing in front of her…
Was Logan.
His black hair was slightly messy. His clothes were torn in some places. A faint trail of dirt still clung to his boots.
But it was him.
Her son… Her boy… Alive!
Her tears sparkled like silver fireflies under the moonlight.
"Logan…" she whispered again, finally mustering up courage. But with caution, as if saying it out loud might break the illusion.
But the boy took a slow step forward, and then another. His gaze was soft, gentle, and also filled with tears. He didn't want to make his mother worry, but here he was—exactly doing what he shouldn't have.
