Elena did not plan to speak.She had learned, over the past year, the discipline of silence. The kind that was not avoidance, but respect. She knew when words clarified and when they simply filled space that did not need filling.This moment, she realized, needed words.They were seated together in the courtyard again, not prepared this time, not arranged. Just the leftover warmth of stone and evening air. No gathering. No witnesses beyond the city breathing quietly around them.Lillian sat across from her, legs tucked beneath the chair, posture unguarded in a way Elena had not seen when they first learned the truth of each other.There was no tension in the space between them now.Only history.
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