It came on the twelfth day. A folded piece of parchment, carried by a traveler passing through.
Elara's hands shook as she opened it. The handwriting was Kai's—familiar, hurried, alive.
Elara,
The road is longer than I thought. The music here is fierce, and I feel pulled to stay a while. But don't lose faith. I'll be back before the sunflowers fall. Keep painting. Think of me when you see the sky at dusk.
—Kai
She read it again and again, pressing the paper to her chest. Relief washed over her—he hadn't forgotten, he hadn't broken his promise.
But when she looked at the fields, the sunflowers seemed a little dimmer, a little more bowed toward the earth.