The weekend sun dipped low as George and Mariana sat side by side on a bench in the Silvercity park, her long black waves catching the golden light. George was sketching furiously, his tongue slightly out in focus, while Mariana watched with quiet admiration.
"You really like drawing gardens, huh?" she asked softly.
George nodded. "They remind me of someone I loved… I think she liked flowers."
Mariana's heart clenched. He's remembering me, she thought, the ghost of Mary flickering behind her eyes.
"Flowers are strong," she said. "They bloom even after the harshest winters."
George looked up, a tiny grin forming. "Just like you, Mariana."
Before she could respond, Lucia and John Green approached from the distance. They were carrying a basket with snacks and thermoses of tea. George waved excitedly, running to hug them.
Lucia's eyes softened when she saw Mariana. "We're so glad George has made a friend like you," she said, holding her hand gently. "There's something familiar about you. It's… comforting."
"I feel the same about all of you," Mariana replied, voice steady but thick with unspoken emotion.
As the group sat down for their picnic, James passed by at a distance. He wasn't meant to be there, but his gaze lingered on the gathering. He didn't approach—just watched.
Mariana noticed him. Their eyes met for a brief, piercing moment.
He looked away first.
Mariana turned back to George and smiled, pushing the past back into the shadows where it belonged—for now. Her place was here, with those who unknowingly still loved her. The boy she once gave everything for. The family who never stopped grieving.
And slowly, piece by piece, she was reclaiming it all.