The fire had burned low by the time Ruhan opened his eyes.
The tower was quiet. The others still slept, huddled close — Aarya's head resting lightly on Samaya's shoulder, Dev curled in the opposite corner, breathing softly.
But something had changed.
The air felt thinner.
The silence wasn't just peaceful — it was expectant.
And the moon outside the broken window wasn't still.
It was watching.
Ruhan stood slowly, careful not to wake the others. His legs were sore, his clothes still damp, but his heart was strangely calm.
Drawn by something unspoken, he climbed to the very top of the lighthouse — the outer balcony, where the rusted bell still hung, still swaying gently despite the windless sky.
From here, he could see the lake below, glass-like and glowing faintly under the moonlight.
And then — he saw it.
There, on the far side of the water, was a single white flower.
Floating.
Alone.
Still.
He blinked.
More petals drifted up from the lake, one by one, as if someone beneath was breathing them into the night.
A sign.
A farewell.
Or a gift.
The door creaked open behind him.
Aarya stepped out, rubbing her eyes. "Couldn't sleep?"
Ruhan didn't turn. "Something about the moon feels different tonight."
She stood beside him, silent for a long while. Then she whispered, "It always did. You just forgot to look up."
He smiled. "That sounds like something you said back then."
"I did," she said. "The night of the flood. Right before I let go."
He looked at her, but she wasn't crying. She wasn't even sad.
She was… peaceful.
"Are you okay now?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But I think I will be."
The others woke slowly after sunrise.
No one rushed. No one wanted to leave just yet.
They made their way down to the lake one last time, where the petals still floated in quiet rhythm.
Dev found a stick and gently steered a cluster of them to shore. Samaya sat in the mud, sleeves rolled up, drawing symbols with her fingers.
Aarya, now barefoot, stepped into the water and let the lake cover her ankles.
She turned to the others.
"I think we're supposed to say goodbye."
Ruhan stepped forward. "To the lighthouse?"
She shook her head. "To the people we were."
They stood side by side, arms brushing, faces warm from the morning light.
And together — softly, not all at once — they let the silence speak for them.
No grand speeches. No final declarations.
Just breath. Just presence.
Just release.
Later, as they walked back toward the village, Dev asked, "So what now?"
Samaya answered with a shrug. "We remember. That's all."
Aarya smiled. "And maybe next time, we don't let so much fall between us."
Ruhan didn't speak.
But in his pocket, he carried the final petal from the lake.
Not to keep.
Just to remind himself that the past doesn't need to be erased.
It just needs to be carried right.