The fire crackled softly, casting fleeting shadows against the cave walls. Mira turned the small seed in her fingers, the silver sheen catching the dim light. She hadn't realized she still had it, tucked away all this time.
Caleb noticed but said nothing. A quiet smile tugged at the corners of his lips, an emotion buried deep. He reached into his pack, pulling out a round fruit with a faint luminescence. The silverglow fruit.
"Try this too," he said, passing it to her.
She took it hesitantly, sinking her teeth into the smooth surface. A blend of flavors bloomed on her tongue—sweet, yet sour, with a trace of bitterness she couldn't quite place. The taste was impossible to define in a single word. But she didn't dislike it.
"At long last," Caleb murmured, watching her reaction, "I finally brought you to a place where the silverglow fruit grows."
At his words, a memory surfaced—clear, unshaken. A younger Caleb, his voice softer, untouched by the weight of the years. If you have a place you want to go, then I too will have a place to go to.
Mira's fingers curled around the half-eaten fruit as her lips curved into a small, rare smile. A genuine one. One that reached her eyes.
Caleb stilled. His violet-gold eyes fixed on her, something unspoken shifting in them. The moonlight cast a gentle glow over his face, accentuating the quiet awe in his expression. He didn't look away.
Then, her vision blurred. A single tear slid down her cheek. Then another. And another. An unstoppable flood of emotion crashed over her, as though it had been waiting, buried too deep for her to recognize.
Caleb tensed, alarmed. "Mira—"
She shook her head, pressing her palm over her chest. "It's... it's coming from here." Her voice was tight, wavering. "Like my soul is remembering something before my mind does. But I don't know why. I don't remember ever feeling this way before. Not when I've lived in that experimental pod all my life."
A furrow formed between Caleb's brows. Confusion flickered across his face, but he didn't question it. He watched her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable, before exhaling softly. Instead of speaking right away, he reached for a cloth and handed it to her. Mira took it hesitantly, dabbing at the dampness on her cheeks.
"I don't like seeing you cry," he admitted, voice quieter now, subdued. "Not when I can't do anything about it."
She sniffled slightly, but there was no change in her expression, only the lingering wetness of tears she hadn't been able to stop. Caleb let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair, and reached for the sleeping pod, unfolding it beside them. "Maybe after you rest, we can figure it out together."
Mira eyed the pod's cramped interior and shook her head. "I don't want to sleep in that."
Caleb exhaled, unsurprised. "Then where?"
She rose, walking to the cave's entrance, the desert wind brushing against her skin. "Here."
Caleb followed, standing beside her with arms crossed. "So that's where you plan to sleep all night?"
"Yes. The cave isn't any better."
He sighed, then dropped down beside her. "Then use my shoulder. I don't like being alone."
Mira hesitated, glancing at him. "This spot is windy."
"That's why it's mine," he replied simply. His posture was steady, a silent shield against the chill.
They sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "In the lab... we were separated by a wall. On my side, it was a mirror. I didn't realize it was one-way until it got destroyed. You were in the space next to me... you could always see me, right?"
Mira's gaze wavered. The transparent wall had been like a stage, built for one audience. And the actor had been him.
Caleb's voice softened. "Could you hear me?"
A haze of fragmented words surfaced in her memory.
"All kinds of plants can grow in the desert."
"There was a fruit with a silver glow, we shared it among ourselves."
"I want to be beside you, even though you never respond, no matter what."
"I heard about an amusement park... I found the dreamiest one in Philos. I want to take you there when you wake up."
She stopped there, voice caught in her throat.
His breath hitched. Mira looked up and found his expression unreadable, yet full of something unspoken. "You heard me." His voice was hushed, almost disbelieving. "Then... you must have heard what I said every night."
Mira's heart tightened. She swallowed, then spoke the words she now knew had always been meant for her. "Good night, my one and only..."
Caleb's expression crumbled. His face was close now, his breath fanning against her skin. In a voice barely above a whisper, he repeated, "Yeah... good night, my one and only-Mira."
As the desert wind howled softly, she rested her head against his shoulder. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, grounding her in the moment. His breathing, slow and calm, lulled her into drowsiness.
Caleb, however, did not sleep immediately. His violet-gold eyes remained open, gazing at her.
A tinge of longing flickered in their depths. Carefully, as if she might vanish, he shifted closer, his fingers ghosting over her arm. Like she was all he had. Like she was the only thing that mattered.
Only then did he finally close his eyes, surrendering to sleep.