The sun was already dipping lower by the time we stood from the bench. The crowds, once loud and scattered, had thinned into something gentler—tired families heading home, students lingering with their milk teas, older couples strolling slowly as if savoring the last of the day. The air felt cooler now, less suffocating, and the noises blended into a comforting hum.
Ray walked beside me again, matching my pace without calling attention to it. For the first time, I noticed how quiet his presence was. Not silent—he wasn’t the kind of man who vanished into the background—but quiet in a way that didn’t demand my attention, even though part of me kept giving it to him anyway. A kind of gravity without pressure.
We made our way to the parking lot. The sky above was streaked with purple and ora
