Elma’s POVThe first thing I noticed that spring was how the orchard did not ask permission to survive.It simply did.The trees that had once stood bare and skeletal were now filled with stubborn green, their branches thickening again as if the world had decided—after everything that it was still worth continuing.I stood at the edge of the grove with my hands buried in soil that smelled alive again.Not healed.Not whole.Just… alive.Behind me, the cottage creaked softly as Harlan moved inside. He had grown quieter over the months. Not sad, exactly. More like someone learning how to live inside a memory without letting it consume him.The girl no, not a girl anymore , had left for the northern settlements three weeks ago. She said she wanted to “see what the world looks like when it isn’t filtered through books.”I told her she would come back changed.She smiled and said that was the point.Everyone was leaving.Everyone was becoming something else.Except me.Or so I thought.The
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