The rooftop sat above an old stone building, tucked between a line of cafés and bookstores that smelled of wood and ink. There were no signs. No lights pointing the way. Just a narrow staircase, wrapped in ivy that clung stubbornly to stone even as winter crept in. Elirys followed Evan up the steps, her fingers brushing the railing, her breath curling in the cold. At the top, the world opened quietly.
When Elirys stepped out into the air, she paused.
It was quiet up here.
The wind was gentle. The sky painted in deep blues and scattered stars, spread wide above the soft hum of the city below. Strings of fairy lights wove between low-hung lanterns, and only a few tables were occupied, each one nestled in its own little corner like a secret being kept.
Evan led her to a table near the edge, where the skyline unfolded in silver and shadow. He pulled out a chair for her. She smiled faintly as she sat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers still slightly chilled from the walk, just looked at him like the moment spoke enough.
Their table was simple ~ wooden, weathered, set with linen napkins and delicate flickering candles. The warmth from the little flame danced on their cheeks as they leaned in, like two people stepping into a world just slightly out of time.
The waiter came and went softly, taking their order with a knowing smile. The menu wasn't extravagant~ warm Crusty bread with soft butter, a rich vegetable stew, Bolognese pasta, pudding for desert ~ but everything arrived with the kind of care that made even the smallest things feel precious.
They ate slowly.
Not because the food demanded it, but because the moment did.
Their conversation was slow, scattered between sips of warm stew and stolen glances at the sky. Elirys talked about places she wanted to visit ~ quiet towns near the sea, libraries with winding staircases, snow-covered roads that didn't lead anywhere in particular.
Evan listened like each word mattered.
Then, as the wind softened and the candle between them burned lower, she asked the question that had been resting on the edge of her thoughts all evening.
Elirys asked, "Why did you do it?". Evan looked up.
"The note," she clarified, softly. "At the bus stop. You didn't know me."
He set down his fork, leaned back slightly, eyes tracing the edge of the skyline before answering.
"I didn't," he said. "But I saw you."
She tilted her head. "Saw me?"
"Not just in the way people glance past each other on streets," he said slowly. "I saw a girl standing very still in a world that wouldn't stop spinning. Like someone trying to hold themselves together with thread."
Elirys lowered her gaze.
"You didn't look lost," Evan said. "You looked like someone who had been strong for so long, she forgot what it was like to be held."
She didn't say anything. Her hands were curled gently in her lap, resting on the fabric of her coat.
"I didn't want to come off as someone trying to fix anything," he said. "You didn't seem like you wanted to be saved. Just… seen. So I left the note. A small thing. Not too close, but not too far."
"You left a flower too," she whispered.
He smiled. "It felt like the kind of moment that deserved one."
She touched the edge of her plate, her fingers tracing the grain of the wood. A breeze passed between them, and somewhere beyond the railing, the city exhaled ~ lights flickering, sirens distant, the world still moving while the stars above stood still.
"I didn't think anyone would ever write something like that for me," Elirys said. "Not without wanting something in return."
"I didn't want anything," Evan replied. "Except maybe for you to believe it."
The wind stirred again, tugging lightly at her hair. A lantern above them flickered.
She looked at him and for the first time in a long time, she let herself be looked at without flinching.
When dessert arrived ~ warm jiggly and fragrant. Evan pushed the spoon toward her.
"First bite's yours."
Elirys hesitated, then smiled small, real, maybe even a little surprised at herself.
She took the spoon, dipped it into the soft pudding, and tasted something sweet she hadn't known she'd missed.
The candle burned low. The stars leaned a little closer. And in that soft space between words, something changed not loudly, not suddenly but like the turning of a page as they sat beneath the low lanterns and the quiet sky:
Maybe it wasn't love.Not yet.
But it was something.
Something that held warmth in the middle of winter.Something that didn't run.Something that stayed.