The training ground felt too quiet after that.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
Like something had been taken away—
or revealed—
and now there was no going back to how things were before.
Mira didn't move at first.
Her hand was still in his.
But her grip had changed.
Not uncertain.
Tighter.
As if letting go now—
would mean losing more than just the moment.
"…so that's it," she said quietly.
Aditya looked at her.
"…that's what I am."
"…both."
The word lingered.
Not confusing anymore.
Just… heavy.
Aditya didn't deny it.
"…yes."
A pause.
"…does that change anything?"
The question came from him this time.
Careful.
Not because he feared the answer—
but because it mattered.
Mira didn't respond immediately.
She looked down at their hands.
Then slowly—
she stepped closer.
Not hesitating.
Not questioning.
"…no."
The answer came softly.
But it didn't waver.
"…it doesn't."
Aditya's shoulders eased slightly.
Not visibly.
But enough.
"…you're sure?"
Mira looked up at him.
"…I just found out I'm connected to something I don't even understand."
A small pause.
"…if I start questioning everything now…"
She shook her head slightly.
"…then this won't survive it."
The honesty in that—
was heavier than anything else.
Aditya didn't look away.
"…and you don't want that."
"…no."
A pause.
"…I don't."
The words settled.
Not dramatic.
But final.
Mira stepped even closer.
No space left between them now.
"…so don't ask me if it changes things."
Her voice was quieter now.
But stronger.
"…because it doesn't."
Aditya held her gaze.
"…even knowing all this?"
"…especially knowing all this."
That—
hit differently.
Because now—
this wasn't just something new.
It was something that had always been there.
Something that had survived—
even without memory.
Aditya's hand tightened slightly around hers.
"…you're not afraid."
"…I am."
She didn't deny it.
"…but not of this."
A small pause.
"…not of you."
The air between them softened.
Not tense.
Not uncertain.
Real.
Aditya stepped closer again.
Not because he needed to—
but because he wanted to.
"…then what are you afraid of?"
Mira held his gaze.
"…that you'll remember everything…"
A pause.
"…and decide this isn't enough."
The words didn't break.
They didn't shake.
But they carried something fragile.
Aditya didn't respond immediately.
Because that fear—
was real.
Not imagined.
Not unfounded.
But—
"…I already chose."
His voice was steady.
"…before I knew all this."
A pause.
"…that doesn't change."
Mira's eyes searched his.
"…you don't know what you'll become."
"…maybe."
A small step forward.
"…but I know what I won't do."
"…what?"
He didn't hesitate.
"…I won't leave you behind."
Silence.
Not heavy.
Not uncertain.
Just… still.
Because this time—
it wasn't just a promise.
It was a refusal.
A decision against something that had already happened once.
Mira's breath slowed.
Not because she relaxed—
but because she understood.
"…you're saying that like it already happened."
Aditya didn't answer.
Because part of him—
felt like it had.
Instead—
he did something simpler.
He pulled her closer.
Not slowly.
Not uncertain.
Certain.
Mira didn't resist.
Didn't hesitate.
She leaned into him naturally.
As if that space—
was always meant to disappear.
"…then don't change your mind," she murmured.
"…I won't."
This time—
there was no hesitation.
Because now—
it wasn't just about choosing her.
It was about not repeating something—
he hadn't even fully remembered yet.
And for the first time—
that choice felt stronger than the past itself.