The city park looked different at night. The trees stood tall and dark, their leaves whispering in the cool breeze. The usual noise of traffic was far away, replaced by the soft hum of streetlamps and the sound of footsteps on gravel paths.
She liked coming here. It was the only place that felt quiet enough to think. On her lap was a book she had carried for days, though she had only read a few pages. Most of the time, she came here to sit, breathe, and watch the world slow down. Her silver-colored hair shone faintly under the lamps, making her look as if the moonlight itself followed her.
That night, he saw her for the first time.
He entered the park through the east gate, earbuds in, hands deep in his jacket pockets. His walk was casual, but when he noticed her sitting alone on the bench, he slowed. He wasn't sure why. Something about her felt different, as if she didn't belong to the busy city around them.
He stopped near the bench and asked quietly, "Mind if I sit here?"
She looked up from her book. Her eyes studied him for a second, then she nodded. "Go ahead."
He sat on the far end of the bench, leaving a polite gap. For a while, neither spoke. She pretended to read, but the silence felt heavy. Finally, he pointed at her book.
"Good book?" he asked.
She smirked and closed it halfway. "Haven't read a page in ten minutes. So, no."
He chuckled, and the sound made her laugh too. It broke the ice.
Soon, their talk moved from books to little things. How pigeons in the park acted like they owned the place. How the city lights drowned out the stars. How some people always walked too fast, as if racing against time.
"You're one of those people," she teased.
"Me?" he laughed. "I only walk fast when I'm late."
"So, all the time?" she smirked.
Their laughter carried through the empty path. By the time the park lamps blinked, signaling closing hours, they had exchanged numbers almost without thinking.
---
The next days blurred into something new. Messages in the morning, jokes at noon, and long calls at night. They shared stories about their families, their dreams, the strange things that made them laugh. Sometimes, they stayed awake until dawn, their voices fading but their smiles still strong.
Weeks passed, and they grew closer. When they met again in the park, it felt natural. They walked along the paths, hands brushing now and then, until one of them stopped pulling away.
It became their place.
---
One month later, they returned to the same bench where it all began. The lamps glowed, the night breeze was cool, and the air smelled faintly of rain. She was waiting, book on her lap again, when he jogged in from the east gate.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, a little out of breath.
"You always are," she teased, though her smile gave her away.
He sat down beside her, closer this time. For a moment, neither spoke. The silence was comfortable.
"This feels like our spot now," he said.
"Yeah. Our spot."
They laughed quietly. Then they sat together, speaking of small things, enjoying the calm night.
But the calm didn't last.
---
The ground trembled beneath their feet. The lamps flickered. A low rumble rolled across the park, louder than thunder. She clutched the edge of the bench.
"What was that?" she whispered.
Before he could answer, the sky above them twisted. Black clouds formed out of nowhere, swirling into a circle. Light burst through the center, brighter than the sun, blinding and hot. The trees shook as if a storm had ripped through the world.
A shape descended from the sky, wrapped in fire and gold. He was tall, his presence filling the air with heat. A crown of flame burned on his head, and his eyes glowed like the sun itself.
She froze in terror. But he… he went pale, as if he knew this was meant for him.
The figure raised his hand, and his voice thundered through the park.
"My son."
The young man stood, trembling. His throat went dry. The word cut deep. He didn't know why, but his heart recognized the voice.
The Emperor of the Sun gazed down at him. "You will return with me. Your place is not here."
Her eyes widened. "Your… son?" She turned to him, searching for an answer. "What is he talking about?"
He couldn't move. Couldn't lie. Every part of him screamed the truth—this was no stranger. This was his blood.
The Emperor stepped forward, fire crackling around him. "Come."
But then, the young man shook his head. His legs trembled, but his voice was firm. He reached back and held her hand.
"I will not go unless I take her with me. She is my love."
Silence fell. Even the wind stopped. The Emperor's blazing eyes moved from his son to the girl.
"She cannot follow," he said coldly. "She is not of our world."
The young man tightened his grip on her hand. "Then I won't go."
His words hung in the night, heavy and sharp. The Emperor's flames grew brighter, his power pressing down on them both. Yet the boy stood firm, holding the girl's hand as if it was the only anchor in the storm.
Her heart pounded. Tears formed in her eyes, but she didn't look away. He had chosen her. In front of a father who was no ordinary man but an Emperor of fire and suns.
The night that began with laughter now burned with fate. Nothing would ever be the same.