The boat returned without ceremony.
No river carried it. No shore claimed it. It rested in a space where decisions gathered before becoming events.
Akash approached it cautiously. There were no oars, no sail. Movement here did not come from effort.
It came from choice.
He understood then: the boat existed only when the story stalled. It was an escape not from danger, but from repetition.
The boat waited, patient, indifferent.
Waiting was its purpose.