The city is quieter tonight.
Maybe it's just his imagination, but the streets don't seem as rushed, the air doesn't feel as heavy.
Or maybe, he's just paying more attention.
Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he actually wants to be somewhere.
She's already on the bridge when he arrives.
This time, she's sitting on the ground, legs tucked to her chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. She looks up at him as he approaches, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"You came," she says.
"You knew I would," he replies.
She huffs a soft laugh. "Yeah. I guess I did."
He sits down beside her, mirroring her posture.
There's something different about her tonight. She doesn't look sad. Not exactly. But she also doesn't look light enough to call it relief. It's something in between—something hesitant, like she's still testing whether it's okay to let go of the past.
They sit in silence for a while. The kind that doesn't need to be filled.
Then, out of nowhere, she asks, "Do you ever feel like you're living in a city that doesn't belong to you?"
He glances at her. "What do you mean?"
She exhales, running a hand through her hair. "Like… you walk these streets every day, go to the same places, see the same people, but it still doesn't feel like it's yours. Like you're just passing through someone else's world."
He thinks about that. About how, before meeting her, every day had felt like a repetition of the last. About how he had convinced himself he was fine with that.
"I don't know," he admits. "I never really thought about it."
She hums, resting her chin on her knees. "I think about it all the time."
He doesn't ask why. He already knows.
Two years is a long time to wait for a promise that was never kept. A long time to feel like a ghost in a city that never stops moving.
For a while, neither of them speaks.
Then, quietly, she says, "I don't think I'll wait anymore."
He looks at her again. This time, she's not staring into the distance. She's looking right at him.
He nods. "Good."
A small smile tugs at her lips. "You think so?"
"Yeah," he says, leaning back against the railing. "Waiting for someone who already left… it's a shitty way to live."
She laughs at that—really laughs. It's the first time he's heard it without any sadness underneath.
"I like how blunt you are," she says.
He smirks. "It's part of my charm."
"Oh? So you think you're charming?"
"I think I have my moments."
She shakes her head, amused. But there's warmth in her gaze now—something softer, lighter.
Maybe she isn't just waiting anymore. Maybe she's starting to move forward.
After a moment, she stretches her legs out in front of her, tilting her head back to look at the sky. "The stars look nice tonight," she says.
He follows her gaze. "They look the same as always."
"Maybe," she muses. "Or maybe we just never looked at them properly before."
The thought lingers between them, unspoken but understood.
He doesn't know what this is between them. He doesn't know if it means anything at all.
But for the first time, he doesn't mind not knowing.
For now, sitting here, under the quiet sky, is enough.
---
Just when it seems like the night might pass in that gentle stillness—
Footsteps.
Fast, desperate footsteps against the pavement.
A man.
He's breathless, his face anxious as he scans the bridge. And the moment she turns to look, she freezes.
And she—
Her breath catches. Her fingers tighten around the edge of the railing. And then, she's running.
Not away.
Toward him.
Halfway across the bridge, she stops. Looks back.
Her eyes meet his.
And in that moment, he knows.
He had always known, hadn't he? That this story wasn't his to hold. That he was only ever a quiet presence in someone else's long-awaited reunion.
But that's okay.
She walks back to him, just for a second. "Thank you," she says, her voice full but quiet. "For listening. For talking. For being here."
He just nods.
She hesitates. "I'm sorry if this… if I hurt you."
He offers a small smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "It's okay."
And somehow, he says it with the same practiced ease that she once did.
She lingers for a moment longer, as if trying to read something in his face. But then, with a final nod, she turns.
And walks away.
Back to the person she had been waiting for all along.
And just like that—she's gone.
He stays for a while, staring at the empty space she left behind.
Then, finally, he turns away too.