The rain poured as Zelmar found them sitting alone on the bench, shoulders heavy with grief. She knelt beside them, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
You don’t believe in love anymore.
They scoffed, eyes hollow. "Love dies. Always does."
Zelmar smiled, plucking a flower from her hair, placing it in their palm. Then let’s see if it can bloom again.
As the petals glowed faintly, something in their gaze wavered—just for a moment.
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