Months later.
Sora and Kai stood on a rooftop under stars that felt too bright for their scars.
The music box rested between them—silent now. Healed.
Kai took her hands. His voice cracked. "I almost destroyed us."
Sora pressed her forehead to his. "You saved me. From silence. From loneliness. From never knowing how fiercely I could love."
He kissed her—slow, reverent, tasting of forever and forgiveness.
"I choose you," she whispered. "Every broken piece. Every echo."
They played together one last time. Not for the past. For the fragile, furious, beautiful present.
The notes rose—aching, triumphant, alive.
And for the first time, the melody felt like home.