....
Reyan stood frozen.
The girl before him—Liora—was bawling, her eyes red, tears falling in silent sobs. And yet, her presence… it tugged at something deep within him. Like a warm echo calling to his fading soul.
He hesitated, the weight of his emotions anchoring his feet, but eventually stepped closer. Silently, he offered her his handkerchief, the only thing he could think to give. She looked up, surprised, and took it with trembling fingers.
They sat on the nearby bench, quiet. She was still trying to catch her breath. Reyan didn't speak. He didn't know how. He just waited, struggling with the storm brewing inside him.
After what felt like ages, she whispered, "Sorry to bother you, but after seeing you… I couldn't hold back. It felt like… like I was crying with two hearts."
His breath caught.
Two hearts.
The words echoed in his mind like a haunting lullaby. But she knew nothing. She couldn't. He forced himself to stay quiet, clenching his hands tight in his lap.
"I'm Liora," she continued softly, her voice like the breeze that passed through the Sahana peaks. "I'm 22. A photographer. Here for a project… and maybe to breathe a little again. What about you?"
"Reyan," he said, barely audible. "I'm 23. I live nearby."
Awkward silence settled between them, and Liora fidgeted slightly. Crying in front of a stranger was embarrassing. But something about this man—about Reyan—made her feel oddly safe.
Still, the quiet was too much.
"I've always wanted to visit Sahana," she said, forcing a bright smile. "It's beautiful, even in its barrenness. Like a painting that's forgotten color but still holds meaning."
"Yeah…" Reyan murmured. "When I was a kid, I used to come here with my parents. It was… our family spot."
Liora's eyes softened. She could hear the ache behind his words.
She brightened again. "If you're from here, maybe… maybe you could give me a tour? I'd love to shoot a few more places."
Reyan stiffened.
A tour? With her?
But he was here to die.
This was supposed to be his end.
His escape.
Why did she have to ask that? Why now?
But her voice—gentle, curious, alive—pulled something inside him. He looked at her again and, before he could stop himself, blurted, "Sure."
He regretted it the second the word left his lips. What was he doing?
They began to walk. The scenery around them was hauntingly still—dead trees, dry soil, fading sunlight bleeding across sharp mountain edges. The Sahana Mountains looked lifeless, but somehow, they held beauty. A kind of sacred silence.
As they descended a steep path, Liora stopped often to take photos—of small handmade shops selling postcards and paintings, of children running through patches of grass, of lone travelers gazing at the fading sun.
One shop in particular had paintings of Sahana's storms and sunrise. Liora lingered there, admiring them quietly.
Reyan was watching her more than the mountains now. Her presence was vivid. She didn't just move—she danced with every step, as if her soul carried light. And Reyan, who hadn't seen beauty in years, felt himself slowly drawn in.
They reached a stream nearby—his favorite place from childhood.
"This… this is special to me," Reyan said.
"Can we stay for a bit?" Liora asked.
They sat on a large stone while she took pictures of the water. Reyan closed his eyes and remembered—his mother's laugh, his father splashing water at him, the joy that once filled this place. A joy that now only echoed faintly in his chest.
She was smiling beside him.
She offered to eat dinner, and without realizing it, Reyan agreed.
They sat at a small stall eating Sahana's famous lentil stew and sweet rice cakes. He didn't say much. But he listened. Her voice was like a violin string played just right—gentle and melodic.
She talked about photography, about chasing sunsets, about how silence sometimes felt louder than noise. Reyan stared at her, admiring her words, her smile, the way she wrinkled her nose when something tasted too sweet.
She reminded him of his mother.
Not in appearance, but in warmth.
The dinner ended. They began to walk again, no words shared this time. Yet, neither felt uncomfortable. There was peace in the silence. Their hearts beat a little faster—but they didn't notice.
They found another bench near a small ridge.
Liora sat down slowly.
Something inside her was crumbling. Words she had buried for years were surfacing like water breaking through cracks.
She clenched her fists.
"I… I wanted to ask something," she said quietly. "Do you think it's possible to feel two emotions at once? Like… like joy and despair, light and dark… at the same time?"
Reyan turned to her, eyes wide.
His chest tightened.
She continued, her voice trembling, "I know it sounds crazy. But for a while now, I've been feeling everything twice. Like someone else's emotions flow through me—stronger than my own. I've cried in joy. I've laughed in pain. I don't even know if they're mine."
Reyan couldn't breathe.
His mind spun.
Panic twisted through him.
His guilt clawed up again—the times he tried to kill himself and failed, the times the mysterious warmth stopped him, the feeling of being pulled back every time he was on the edge.
Was it… her?
Was she the light that held him all along?
She spoke again, quietly now, as if afraid, "Right now too… I feel like I'm carrying two hearts."
Her words cut through him like lightning.
"What do you think?" she asked gently.
Reyan's mouth opened—but no sound came out.
He was terrified.
Terrified that if he said anything, it would become real.
So he ran.
Without a word.
Without a glance.
He left the bench.
He left her.
He left behind his only treasure—his violin, resting gently against the bench leg.
.......