They begin walking without discussing it.
Back toward the main path.
Toward streets.
Toward normalcy.
Laura tracks her steps carefully now.
Measured.
Reassembled.
But the memory gap remains.
Afternoon.
Dusk.
Night.
Morning.
They stayed all night.
The fact settles into her spine slowly.
Not dramatic.
Just undeniable.
She did not decide to stay.
She did not ask him to.
She did not schedule this pause.
It happened.
And he remained.
Laura glances at him from the corner of her eye.
His movements are steady.
No sign of complaint.
No stiffness in his expression.
No irritation.
He slept sitting upright.
On a public bench.
Because she did.
The thought is difficult to hold.
She tries to contextualize it.
Maybe he was concerned.
Maybe it felt easier than leaving.
Maybe he didn't want to wake her.
All reasonable explanations.
But beneath them is a simpler truth:
He chose to stay.
Without negotiation.
Without acknowledgment.
Without being asked.
Laura has always asked.
Permission.
Expectation.
Role assignment.
She structures proximity.
She decides where she stands in relation to others.
This—
She did not initiate.
And yet it happened.
A faint tightness returns to her chest.
Not panic.
Awareness.
If someone can choose to stay without her orchestrating it—
then connection is not a system she controls.
It is mutual.
Unmanaged.
That is unfamiliar territory.
"You didn't have to," she says quietly.
He shrugs again.
"I know."
No resentment.
No hidden meaning.
Just agreement.
That unsettles her more.
He is not claiming obligation.
He is not implying sacrifice.
He is not expecting gratitude.
He simply stayed because he wanted to.
Laura has spent years believing that presence must be earned.
Maintained.
Justified.
If you are useful, you are kept.
If you are stable, you are relied upon.
If you perform, you are valued.
Axel did not stay because she was useful.
She was not performing.
She was not stabilizing anything.
She was asleep.
Unproductive.
Unnecessary.
And he stayed anyway.
That realization presses deeper than exhaustion ever did.
She did not have to hold herself upright.
And the world did not collapse.
He did not withdraw.
He did not recalculate her value.
He simply remained.
The street grows louder as they leave the park.
Morning traffic.
Cafés opening.
Routine returning.
Laura feels slightly misaligned with it.
Like she is stepping back into a tempo she no longer fully controls.
She inhales carefully.
Tests her equilibrium.
Her body feels steadier than last night.
But something inside her has shifted.
For the first time in her life—
She experienced presence without performance.
And someone chose to stay through it.
She does not yet know what to do with that.
But she knows this:
It changes something.
-
They stop at the edge of the park before crossing into the street.
Laura hesitates for half a second.
Not because she is tired.
Because stepping forward feels like returning to structure.
Axel waits beside her.
And she realizes—
She is not the only one capable of holding.