Night settled without warning.Not a true night, more that in-between hour when daylight lingers, when colors hesitate before dying.
The wind had risen; snow, fine at first, now fell in a dense curtain against the windows.
Catarina lit a small lamp near the piano.The light was soft, golden, almost shy, it made fragile shadows dance along the walls.The silence, meanwhile, had grown heavier still.
She rested her fingers on the closed keys.Not to play, just to feel the cold lacquer, to remind herself that once, there had been music here.
A memory brushed past: a melody in a café, rain like tonight's,words whispered that she had thought she understood.
"You should rest."
She turned.Sylus stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets,fatigue visible even in his voice.
"I can't," she answered. "The silence is too loud."
"It's the snow," he said. "It smothers everything. Even thoughts."
He came closer.The floor groaned beneath his steps; the lamp flickered.Between them, the extinguished fire no longer separated anything.
"I tried to imagine what you think of me," he murmured.
"You don't have to imagine. You know."
A brief, joyless laugh escaped him.
"I don't know anything. Or maybe I know too much."
She looked away.The snow struck harder against the glass, keeping time with their silence.
"It's not the first time everything's fallen apart," she said softly.
"No. But it's the first time I've watched it happen."
A heartbeat. Two breaths.Then nothing.
He took a step forward, close enough for her to feel his breath without seeing him.
"We can't fix this, Catarina."
"Then we learn to live among the ruins," she replied.
He closed his eyes, nodded once, stepped back.
"Good night."
And he disappeared into the hallway, leaving behind a faint trail of cold air.
Catarina stayed there, facing the window.Outside, the snow kept falling, endlessly, as if the world itself were trying to forget their names.