Two weeks later, Elara found herself in an airport she hadn't planned to spend time in.
Her flight had been delayed.
Of course it had.
There was something almost ironic about it now.
She stood in front of the departure board, arms crossed lightly, scanning the glowing lines of information that didn't change no matter how long she looked.
DELAYED.
She exhaled through her nose.
"Predictable."
The voice hit her before the meaning did.
Familiar.
Too familiar.
Elara turned.
And there he was.
Rowan.
Leaning casually against a pillar like he had been there long before she arrived, like this moment had been inevitable.
For a second, she didn't speak.
Didn't move.
Because something about seeing him again felt… improbable in a way that almost bordered on unreal.
"You again," she said finally.
Rowan tilted his head slightly, studying her reaction.
"Or," he said, pushing himself off the pillar, "we're just very committed to the rule."
She let out a small breath—half disbelief, half something else.
"You don't even seem surprised."
"I'm not," he said.
That caught her off guard.
"…Why not?"
He stepped closer—not too close, just enough to feel present.
"Because I was hoping."
The honesty in that landed differently than she expected.
Not heavy.
But not casual either.
Elara looked away briefly, then back at him.
"That sounds like breaking the rule already."
"Not really," Rowan said. "I didn't do anything about it. I just… left room for the possibility."
She narrowed her eyes slightly.
"You've thought about this more than I have."
"Of course I have," he said lightly. "You agreed too quickly. Someone had to analyze the system."
She shook her head, but a smile slipped through.
"There's no system."
"There is now."
He gestured toward a nearby café.
"Come on."
Elara hesitated.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because this—
This felt like stepping further in.
Still, she followed.
They ordered drinks.
Sat across from each other again.
And just like before—
It felt easy.
Too easy.
"So," Rowan said, resting his arm against the table, "what have you been doing in your non-waiting life?"
Elara stirred her coffee absentmindedly.
"Working."
"Drawing?"
She hesitated.
"…Sometimes."
He noticed that.
"You say that like it's not the main thing."
"It's not," she said.
"Why not?"
She met his gaze.
Because it's not enough.
She didn't say it out loud.
Instead—
"Because it's not practical."
Rowan leaned back slightly, watching her.
"That's not the same thing."
Elara didn't respond.
He didn't push.
Instead, he shifted the topic just enough.
"And did you draw me?"
She blinked.
"That's a very direct question."
"I'm a very direct person."
A pause.
Then—
"…Yes," she admitted.
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
"Good."
"That's all you're going to say?"
"What else should I say?" he asked. "I'm honored."
She studied him.
"You're not even curious what it looks like?"
"I am," he said. "But I don't need to see it yet."
"Why?"
He smiled faintly.
"Because then it becomes real."
The words lingered.
And for the first time—
Elara felt it.
The edge of something deeper beneath all this lightness.