The sky returned to normal.
Brighter, even.
Balanced.
But the rooftop felt emptier.
Lina kept coming anyway.
She filled sketchbook after sketchbook with leaning stars and listening constellations.
"I hope you're polishing properly," she muttered at the moon one evening.
A breeze brushed her cheek.
Then—
A voice.
"You still draw them wrong."
She froze.
There he was.
Silver hair. Soft glow. Slightly smug expression.
"You came back?" she whispered.
"Temporary visitation rights," he said lightly. "Apparently celestial spirits are allowed one human attachment."
Lina tried to look annoyed.
Failed.
"So," she said, sitting beside him. "Did the moon miss you?"
He looked at her instead.
"Not as much as I missed you."
The stars above leaned closer.
Listening.
And this time, Lina knew—
The sky wasn't something far away.
It was something that had chosen her back.
The End