The cherry blossoms were starting to fall.
Each petal danced on the spring breeze like a gentle memory, drifting through the air and landing on the shoulders of those still standing beneath them. River and Lila walked slowly down the park path, the world quiet except for the sound of their shoes brushing against the gravel and the occasional distant hum of life beyond their bubble.
Lila stole a glance at River. His jaw was tight, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He'd been quiet since their encounter with Jace, even after the other boy had seemingly retreated.
"Are you okay?" she asked gently.
He stopped walking, lifting his face to the wind.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I feel like I've been holding my breath for years, and now that it's quiet… I don't know how to breathe again."
Lila stepped in front of him, her hands finding his. "Then let's figure it out together."
He smiled faintly, but there was something still coiled inside him, something waiting to be released.
"Come on," she said. "There's something I want to show you."
---
They ended up at her apartment, in her small but cozy room. The late afternoon sun spilled through the window in warm golds, casting long shadows across her floor. Lila lit one of her scented candles, vanilla and jasmine curling into the air.
She pulled out her sketchbook—the one River had flipped through before—but this time, she showed him the most recent page.
It was a portrait.
Of him.
Not the River the world saw—the guarded, distant, wary version—but the boy she saw. The softness in his eyes, the quiet strength in the way he held himself, the sadness he never quite let go of.
River stared at the drawing for a long moment, his throat tight.
"That's… me?" he asked softly.
Lila nodded. "It's how I see you. Not as broken. Not as dangerous. But as real. And brave."
He sat down slowly on her bed, the sketch still in his hands.
"No one's ever looked at me like that," he murmured.
"Then they weren't really looking," she said, sitting beside him.
He turned to her, eyes searching hers.
"Lila," he said, voice low and steady, "I've never told anyone what really happened with Jace. Not the full truth."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. You deserve to know."
She nodded, her hand resting over his heart.
River looked down at their intertwined fingers.
"It started with a deal gone bad," he said. "We were young. Stupid. Jace had gotten into something heavy—some pills, money owed to the wrong people. I went with him that night, thinking I could watch his back."
He paused, jaw clenched.
"But it went sideways. The guy pulled a knife. Things got violent. I got in the middle, and... I took the fall. Jace ran. Left me there bleeding and alone. I spent the night in a juvenile cell. No one came for me except a case worker the next morning. That's when I knew—I had to leave, or I'd end up just like him."
Lila's eyes shimmered with tears. She brushed a hand against his cheek.
"You were trying to protect him. And he betrayed you."
"I didn't care about getting hurt," River said. "What broke me was realizing someone I trusted could leave me behind like that."
"You're not there anymore," she whispered. "You're here. With me. And I would never walk away."
He leaned in then, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't.
Their lips met, not rushed or burning, but deep—achingly tender. A kiss that tasted like release. Like healing. Like the promise of something more.
When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers.
"I love you," he said, his voice barely a breath.
Lila's heart soared.
"I love you too."
---
That night, they lay tangled in each other, the room aglow in soft candlelight. He traced the lines of her spine as she rested against him, and for the first time in a long time, River felt safe.
Not because the world had stopped being dangerous.
But because he'd found something stronger than fear.
Her.