Dion stepped forward, each footfall heavy with years of longing. His steps echoed faintly down the corridor until he reached the doorway.
The piano's gentle melody came to an abrupt halt.
"Flora…" Dion's voice was quiet, trembling, as if afraid the moment might vanish.
Flora turned toward him. For a heartbeat, neither moved—only their eyes met, brimming with unspoken memories. And then the tears came, soft and unrestrained.
Dion crossed the room in a few hurried steps, closing the distance the years had forced between them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
"I missed you," Flora's voice broke against his shoulder.
"I missed you too," Dion whispered, his grip tightening, "every single day."
They stayed in each other's arms for a little longer, holding on as if to make up for every lost day.
