Two figures.
Holding hands.
Standing under a sky filled with light.
“It’s us,” she said.
Ramira smiled.
A real smile.
Not forced.
Not fragile.
Just… real.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
Salomé studied her for a moment.
“Are you still sad?” she asked.
Ramira thought about the question carefully.
Because the truth mattered now.
More than ever.
“Sometimes,” she admitted. “But not the same way as before.”
Salomé nodded, as if she understood something deeper than the words themselves.
“Me too,” she said.
That night, after Salomé had gone to sleep, Ramira stood by the window.
Looking out at a world that had once moved on without her.
A world that now, slowly, was making space for her again.
She thought about the years she had lost.
The pain.
The silence.
The injustice.
