Seasons turned. Spring returned with new blossoms, autumn came with falling leaves, winters hushed the fields in white.
Kai never returned. His name became a memory whispered only in Elara's heart.
She stayed in Mirasol, caring for her grandmother, painting still. Her works grew famous in nearby towns—canvases filled with skies that were too wide, too bright, too sad to belong only to her.
People said her paintings carried a longing they couldn't name. Only Elara knew—it was the sound of a guitar she would never hear again.