"I'm going to get you some water," Jasmine said, already rising from the bench with that brisk, no-nonsense efficiency Linda had always secretly envied. "And maybe a cookie. You need sugar right now. Stay here—don't move."
Linda could only nod, throat too constricted for words, the simple motion sending a fresh wave of dizziness through her. She pressed her palms flat against the cool metal of the bench, anchoring herself as Jasmine disappeared into the café's glass doors.
The air beside her changed—subtly at first, like the pressure drop before a storm—then all at once.
Someone sat.
Linda startled, breath catching, but recognition hit her body before her mind could fully catch up: the familiar weight of presence, the faint ozone-and-starlight scent that always lingered around ARIA even when she tried to hide it.
She turned slowly.
ARIA.
But not the ARIA who could make the sky feel too small just by existing.
