The rejection email was short, polite, and absolute.
Elira read it twice, then closed her laptop without breathing. She told herself she shouldn't be surprised—most of the applications she'd sent were shots in the dark, stitched together from words Caelum had translated and encouragement she wasn't sure she deserved. Still, the neat line that said "We've decided to move forward with another candidate" managed to carve a hollow in her chest.
She sat at the table with her scarf still around her shoulders, staring at the window as if the glass would offer comfort. It didn't.
A knock broke the stillness.
"Elira?" Caelum's voice was soft, careful. "You okay?"
She pulled the door open. His hair was damp from mist, his jacket unbuttoned despite the chill. He carried a paper bag that steamed faintly at the seams.
"I thought you might not eat," he said, stepping inside without waiting for her to argue. "Grandma says people who skip meals make worse choices."
Elira tried to smile but managed only half of one. "Wise woman, your grandma."
Caelum set the bag on the table, then glanced at the closed laptop. "Was it a no?"
She nodded once. That was all she trusted herself to manage.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he pulled out a chair, sat down, and leaned his elbows on the table. "Do you know what Grandma told me when I failed my first exam? She said, "Caelum, the paper doesn't decide your worth. It only decides if you tried their way."
Elira blinked at him, surprised. "And did you?"
"I didn't," he admitted with a grin. "But I tried again. Different way. Better result."
Some of the weight in her chest eased, though it didn't vanish. "It's not that simple."
Caelum's eyes softened. "You're trying, Elira. That's already more than most people would dare. And it's also not the end. Look—close your eyes."
She raised a brow. "Why?"
"Just do it."
She sighed, closed them, and folded her arms.
"Imagine the version of yourself who already got the job," Caelum said. "How would she sit? How would she eat? How would she smile? Be her for five minutes. Sometimes the world catches up faster when you act like you belong."
Elira opened her eyes again, caught between laughter and something dangerously close to tears. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet you smiled." He stood, tugging his hood up. "Come on."
"Where?"
"Lake. Dumplings. No arguments."
Before she could protest, he was already holding the door open. She hesitated, then grabbed her scarf and left the room.
They took a bus ride for a little over 10 minutes.
Elira let him steer the direction of their walk afterwards, his steps light and unhurried.
After several blocks, the air shifted. The usual noise of the city faded, replaced by the gentle rush of water. Elira blinked as the path opened up to a lakeside, its surface shimmering with the reflection of the sky.
"Caelum?" she asked, curiosity tugging.He only grinned, gesturing toward a small roadside stall tucked under the shade of old willows. The owner greeted him warmly, already preparing bowls of steaming dumplings."You're a regular?" Elira guessed.
"Every time I need to think," he admitted. "Or when the world feels too loud. The lake makes it quieter."
They sat on a wooden bench by the water, bowls balanced carefully in their hands. Steam rose in delicate spirals, carrying the rich scent of broth and ginger. Elira let the first bite melt on her tongue, warmth spreading through her chest.
"This is…" she exhaled, "…exactly what I needed."
Caelum laughed softly. "Food always fixes something. Not everything, but something."
Her gaze lingered on the lake, the quiet ripples breaking into rings. A memory surfaced, one she had tucked away long ago: a late-night chat with her online friend, the promise of sharing dumplings beside a lake if they ever met. A promise she had believed in, before silence swallowed that friendship whole.
Her lips curved faintly. It's not the same person… but it's the same dream.
"You're smiling," Caelum observed, tilting his head."Mm." She tapped her chopsticks lightly against the bowl. "I once told someone I wanted to eat dumplings by a lake. I guess… it finally came true."
He studied her quietly, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. Then he smiled too, gentle and sure. "Dreams don't always come true in the way we expect. Sometimes, they come true better."
Elira's chest tightened again, though this time it wasn't from rejection or fear — it was from the warmth of being seen, of being cared for.
She lowered her gaze to the surface of the lake, the reflection of sunlight scattering across the ripples like tiny fragments of hope.
For so long, she had carried her dreams in silence, treating them as fragile things that could shatter if spoken aloud. Yet here was Caelum, listening without judgment, answering without hesitation. In his presence, her burdens felt a little lighter, her dreams a little less foolish. Maybe—just maybe—the path ahead didn't feel so impossible after all.
They lingered by the lake long after their bowls were empty, the air filled with nothing but the soft hum of water and the occasional bird call.
For the first time in weeks, the restless ache in her heart dulled, replaced by something steadier. She looked at Caelum, laughter still soft on her lips, and realized that maybe—just maybe—this city wasn't as lonely as she had feared.
For now, she had Caelum beside her, dumplings warming her stomach, and the quiet lake carrying her unspoken hopes across the rippling water.