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Years had passed since Sandrone's death.
The news had struck everyone hard when it first spread through the ranks. Colleagues mourned her brilliance, allies mourned her loss, and even those who rarely interacted with her felt the absence she left behind.
But no one took it harder than Columbina.
To the rest of the world, Sandrone had been a genius, a Harbinger, an irreplaceable mind. To Columbina, she had been so much more.
She had been the person who could fill a room without saying a word. The person Columbina found herself seeking out, even when there was no reason to. The person who occupied her thoughts far more often than she cared to admit.
Somewhere along the way, friendship had become something deeper.
Something she never found the courage to confess.
How could she?
Sandrone was always consumed by her work, endlessly chasing the next project, the next breakthrough. There never seemed to be a right moment to speak. Columbina had always told herself there would be more time later.
Later never came.
And so, for years, she carried that regret in silence the unbearable ache of loving someone who would never know how deeply they had been loved.
Eventually, the world moved on.
Everyone else did.
Or at least, they pretended to.
Then, three months ago, everything changed.
By pure chance, Columbina overheard a conversation she was never meant to hear from Arlecchino talking on the phone outside her room.
"The reconstruction is proceeding smoothly."
"The body should be complete soon."
"Sandrone is being rebuilt as we speak."
Those words had haunted her every waking moment.
At first, she was unable to believe it. Sandrone was gone. Columbina had watched everything fall apart with her own eyes. She had mourned. Grieved. Accepted a reality she never wanted to face.
And yet somehow, somewhere, someone was rebuilding her. The revelation should have brought hope. Instead, it became a curse.
That’s because no one would tell her where. No one would tell her who was responsible. No one would tell her when she would be able to see Sandrone again.
Every question she asked led nowhere, every lead dissolved into nothing, every answer only created more questions.
Three months of searching.
Three months of endless roads, empty promises, and closed doors.
Columbina had traveled farther than most mortals could ever imagine. She searched forgotten laboratories hidden beneath mountains. Abandoned facilities buried beneath wastelands. Ancient archives whose records stretched back thousands of years.
She called upon old allies. Asked favors from gods, interrogated scholars and inventors across all Tevat. Yet each trail ended the same way.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
The goddess had begun to feel trapped inside an endless maze. No matter which path she chose, every corridor eventually curved back into darkness.
Even her closest companions could offer no help. Some genuinely knew nothing, others remained suspiciously silent. That silence frustrated her most of all, she could hear it in their voices and see it in their eyes. There were things they knew, things they refused to share.
Perhaps they believed they were protecting her.
Perhaps they had been sworn to secrecy.
Either way, Columbina was tired of being left in the dark.
A bitter sigh escaped her lips. Her hand tightened into a fist the sound of fabric creasing echoed softly in the quiet night. For a brief moment, divine power flickered beneath her skin. The stars above trembled ever so slightly not enough for mortals to notice but enough to reveal the frustration buried deep within her heart.
Three months, yet she was no closer than she had been on the first day realization stung.
So she walked.
Without direction.
Without purpose.
Simply walking until her thoughts grew quieter.
Eventually, the landscape changed, rocky paths gave way to softer terrain and the scent of salt filled the air. A cool breeze brushed against her cheeks before long, she found herself standing at the edge of a beach.
Columbina stopped.
For the first time that day, she allowed herself to simply look at the ocean stretched endlessly before her. A vast sea of silver and black that merged seamlessly with the horizon. Gentle waves rolled toward the shore in a rhythmic dance, their white foam glowing beneath the moonlight. Above her was a sky so beautiful it almost hurt to look at the countless stars glittered across the heavens. Each one shines brilliantly against the darkness that seemed to stretch forever.
At the center of it all hung the moon.
Her moon.
The silent companion that had watched over her since the beginning.
Its pale radiance illuminated the world below, casting shimmering pathways across the ocean's surface water reflected its light perfectly. It was as though another moon rested beneath the waves.
Columbina stared at the reflection for a long moment.
Then she slowly stepped forward.
The sand shifted beneath her feet.
Cool grains slipped between her toes.
Another step.
Another.
The ocean greeted her at the shoreline a small wave washed over her feet before retreating into the sea.
The sensation was gentle.
Comforting.
Almost familiar.
For the first time in weeks, Columbina felt some of the tension leave her shoulders, the wind carried strands of her dark hair across her face. She brushed them aside and continued walking along the shore.
The only sounds were the waves, the wind and her own footsteps. It should have felt lonely yet somehow it didn't, because this place reminded her of someone.
Sandrone.
A small smile tugged at Columbina's lips. She remembered another night similar to this years ago, the two of them had wandered along a beach together after escaping their responsibilities for a few precious hours.
Sandrone had complained the entire way.
"The sand is getting into my shoes."
"The humidity is terrible."
"There are more efficient ways to spend an evening."
Yet she had never once suggested leaving.
Not once.
And Columbina had known why.
Because despite all her complaints, Sandrone had enjoyed every second of it.
The memory brought warmth to her chest, she could still picture her clearly.
The way moonlight reflected in her eyes.
The way she would cross her arms whenever she was upset at her.
The way she would pretend not to care while secretly caring more than anyone else.
Another memory surfaced.
Sandrone sitting beside her on a cliff overlooking the sea.
The engineer had spent hours explaining some complicated mechanical theory.
Columbina hadn't understood a single word.
Not one.
Yet she had listened attentively anyway not because she cared about the theory, but because she loved hearing Sandrone talk.
Loved watching her eyes light up whenever she became passionate about something and the excitement hidden beneath her normally composed demeanor.
A soft laugh escaped Columbina.
The sound was swallowed by the ocean waves.
"You really talked too much sometimes," she whispered. The waves offered no response.
Only silence.
Her smile slowly faded.
Because every memory carried an ache, every happy moment reminded her of what she had lost or perhaps what she hadn't lost.
That uncertainty hurt even more.
If Sandrone truly was being rebuilt...
If she truly existed somewhere in this world...
Then why couldn't Columbina find her?
Why couldn't she see her?
Why couldn't she hear her voice?
The moon goddess stopped walking.
The ocean continued moving around her stars shining over her head as the world carried on as though nothing was wrong.
Yet inside her chest, a storm raged.
She looked toward the moon's reflection dancing across the water.
Her light pink eyes shimmered while Columbina lowered her gaze.
A painful ache settled within her heart.
"I miss you," she whispered softly.
The confession disappeared into the night.
No audience.
No witnesses.
Just the sea.
The wind.
And the stars above.
Yet despite everything, she refused to give up.
Three months had passed.
Three months of failures.
Three months of dead ends.
But if Sandrone truly existed somewhere out there, Columbina would find her.
No matter how long it took.
No matter how many worlds she had to search.
No matter how many secrets stood in her way.
The ocean breeze swept around her once more.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself one final moment to remember.
The way Sandrone bickered with her in the mornings
The way Sandrone always pushed her out of her room
The way Sandrone yelled and called her name
The way Sandrone prepared her tea hoping she wouldn’t notice
The way Sandrone almost said those three little words that had so much weight
The awful day that her sun was taken away.
That was how Columbina's thoughts always unraveled whenever she allowed herself the dangerous luxury of remembering.
It never began painfully.
Quite the opposite.
The memories would arrive softly, wrapped in warmth and nostalgia. Gentle fragments of laughter, the sensation of sunlight against her skin, voices she once knew by heart. Fleeting moments that seemed untouched by time itself.
For a few precious minutes, she could almost convince herself that those days still existed somewhere.
Then it always came.
That day.
That cursed event.
The memory she spent countless years trying to bury.
The warmth would vanish as though someone had extinguished a candle inside her chest. Every pleasant recollection became poisoned, inevitably leading her back to the same unbearable conclusion.
Gone.
Everything was gone.
A familiar ache spread through her heart. It felt old enough to have become a part of her, yet it never hurt any less.
Why?
The question echoed endlessly through her mind.
Why had fate allowed her to find happiness only to tear it away?
Why had she been forced to survive when others had not?
Why had the world continued moving forward as though nothing had happened?
Her hands trembled slightly.
The pain became so overwhelming that her knees finally gave out beneath her.
Without resistance, Columbina collapsed onto the warm sand.
The grains shifted beneath her as she landed, cushioning her fall. She didn't bother standing again; there was no strength left for that.
Instead, she remained seated where she fell.
Her gaze lowered. Before realizing, she already extended one finger and began drawing in the sand.
Small circles.
Random lines.
Meaningless shapes.
One doodle merged into another without purpose.
Her mind remained trapped elsewhere.
She stared at the patterns she created without truly seeing them.
The memories continued to torment her.
Faces.
Voices.
Promises.
Regrets.
All blending together into a painful haze.
The minutes passed quietly.
Then something shifted.
A single thought surfaced from the depths of her memory.
Columbina froze.
Her finger stopped moving.
The unfinished doodle remained half-drawn beneath her hand.
Slowly, her brows furrowed.
"...Wait."
The thought had appeared suddenly, almost by accident.
A memory.
Faint.
Blurred.
Yet undeniably important.
Her eyes widened slightly, It happened years ago perhaps longer.
She had wandered into Sandrone's room without permission as she often did whenever boredom overtook her.
The memory returned piece by piece the cluttered workshop machines scattered across every available surface, the constant humming of mechanisms and Sandrone herself. She had been speaking on the phone.
Columbina hadn't intended to eavesdrop at least, not initially. But one particular phrase had caught her attention.
A location.
A place.
At the time it had seemed insignificant.
Now...
Now it feels different.
Her heartbeat quickened.
She closed her eyes, desperately trying to recall the conversation.
The details remained frustratingly vague, the voice on the other end, Sandrone's irritated responses to several fragmented sentences.
Yet the location stood out.
Somehow it had stored itself inside her memory all this time.
A forgotten clue waiting to be discovered struck her like lightning.
Columbina sat upright for the first time in what felt like hours, genuine emotion appeared on her face.
Hope.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
"There may be one place I do know about..."
The words escaped her lips as a whisper.
The ocean breeze carried them away.
Her heart pounded harder.
If her memory was correct...
If Sandrone had truly been discussing that location...
Then there was a chance.
A chance she hadn't possessed before.
A lead.
A direction.
Somewhere to begin.
Columbina clenched her hand tightly against her chest.
Her sorrow had not disappeared, the pain and memories remained but now they shared space with something else.
Determination.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"That must be the place."
Her light pink eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
"It has to be."
For the first time in a very long while, the future did not feel entirely empty.
A few moments passed, the only sounds that accompanied Columbina through the darkness were the sharp crack of dry leaves beneath her feet and the ragged rhythm of her own breathing. Each inhale burned her lungs and every exhale escaped in uneven bursts as she forced herself onward.
She couldn't stop.
Not now.
Not after coming this far.
Ignoring the ache in her legs, Columbina pushed herself forward once more, weaving between shadowed trees and overgrown pathways. The moon hung high above, casting pale silver light across the landscape and illuminating fragments of memories she had buried long ago.
Sandrone's words echoed in her mind.
The location.
The directions.
The possibility.
She had clung to them desperately throughout her journey. Yet as the destination drew closer, uncertainty began to creep into her heart.
What if Sandrone isn't even there?
The thought struck harder than she expected.
What if she had misunderstood?
What if she had arrived too late?
What if all of this hope had been for nothing?
Her pace faltered for a moment.
Then she clenched her fists and continued.
Eventually, the familiar structure emerged from the darkness.
Columbina stopped.
For several seconds, she simply stood there, staring.
The building looked exactly as she remembered being described and yet completely different. Time had left its mark upon the walls; the stone exterior seemed older, weathered by years of wind and rain, but it remained unmistakable.
This was the place.
The place Sandrone had spoken of countless years ago.
The place that had lived only in Sandrone’s memories until now.
Her old home in Fontaine with the workshop.
A trembling breath escaped her lips.
After a moment, she tilted her head back and looked up at the towering structure, allowing herself to absorb the reality of it. She had found it before she could gather her thoughts, a sudden crash shattered the silence.
Her eyes widened.
Another noise followed.
A door slammed.
Then another.
Metal clanged loudly somewhere inside the home.
Voices overlapped in hurried conversation creating a chaotic symphony of confusion. Among them, one voice repeatedly apologized.
"I'm sorry!"
A loud bang.
"I'm so sorry!"
Another crash.
"That wasn't supposed to happen!"
Columbina blinked.
The sheer absurdity of it caught her completely off guard.
Chaos.
In the middle of the night, inside a place that should have been silent. Curiosity quickly replaced her hesitation and slowly she approached the entrance.
As she drew closer, she noticed the front door wasn't fully closed allowing warm light to spill into the darkness outside.
The sounds from within became clearer.
Footsteps, Arguments. The scrape of metal against stone.
Someone groaning in frustration.
Columbina hesitated only briefly before reaching for the handle.
Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal.
Then she pushed the door and it swung open.
The scene before her stole the breath from her lungs.
Her gaze immediately found a woman standing near the center of the room.
Beige hair, gathered neatly into a bun.
Columbina froze.
The world around her seemed to disappear.
The noise.
The movement.
The voices.
All of it faded into the background.
"It can't be..."
The words escaped her as little more than a mutter.
Her lavender eyes remained fixed upon the woman.
She examined every detail desperately as though the image might vanish if she blinked.
The dress was different. She remembered every stitch of the one she used to wear. Back then, the design had been simpler.
Familiar.
Comforting.
This dress however was new.
Rich crimson fabric wrapped elegantly around the woman's figure, complimenting her waist before flowing gracefully down to her knees. The deep red contrasted beautifully against her fair skin, making her seem almost radiant beneath the warm lights.
For a brief moment, Columbina found herself smiling. The color suited her, more than suited her.
It was beautiful.
Then her attention shifted to the woman's face. The expression was exactly the same, a familiar frown pulled at her lips as she scolded someone across the room.
When displeased, she still puckered her lips in that unmistakable way.
It was such a small habit.
Such an insignificant detail.
Yet Columbina remembered countless moments spent trying and failing to take her anger seriously because of it.
The memory struck her chest with painful force.
A laugh nearly escaped her.
Then came the sound of her voice.
Soft.
Melodic.
Gentle by nature, even when frustration sharpened its edges.
The woman was clearly irritated about whatever disaster had unfolded inside the room, but her voice retained the same warmth Columbina remembered.
The same comfort, the same tenderness hidden beneath every word it washed over her like a forgotten melody.
For months, Columbina had searched for traces of it in crowds out in the world.
She had replayed old conversations so many times that she feared she might have imagined the sound altogether.
Yet now it was real.
Alive.
Standing only a few feet away.
Her heart pounded heavy against her ribs. Every emotion she had buried surged to the surface at once.
Relief.
Disbelief.
Longing.
Hope.
Fear.
Most of all, an overwhelming joy she could barely contain.
After all this time...She was finally hearing that voice again.
Columbina thought at first that her mind was betraying her.
For a moment, she simply stood frozen staring by the workshop’s door. Her breath caught in her throat surely it was another cruel trick of memory—a fleeting illusion conjured by months of grief and longing.
With trembling fingers, she lifted both hands to her eyes and rubbed them hard as though clearing away a dream. When she looked again, the figure remained exactly where she had been before.
Countless nights spent praying for this moment, countless years imagining what she would say if she ever saw her again, and now the girl she had mourned for so long was standing only a few feet away.
Not a ghost.
Not a memory.
Her Sandrone.
The researchers surrounding her seemed far less appreciative of the miracle before them.
"I told you I'm fine!"
Sandrone's voice echoed through the room, sharp enough to make several of the nearby researchers flinch.
"I've been walking around for two days perfectly fine, you morons! Instead of hovering around me like flies, why don't you go do something actually useful?"
A few exchanged nervous glances but none dared answer.
Sandrone continued her protest, pacing across the workshop floor while several technicians desperately tried to keep up with her.
“But miss according to our data, you don't seem stable enough too-..” one of the researchers explained before getting interrupted.
"Oh, Archons above, can any of you do anything right around here?" she snapped. "How many times do I have to explain every little detail before it gets through those thick skulls of yours?"
With every sentence she spoke her irritation seemed to build, the air around her felt charged as though a single misplaced word might finally push her over the edge.
Then disaster struck.
As she stormed past one of the worktables, her elbow clipped a metal tray resting near the edge. The tray wobbled for a split second before tumbling to the floor.
CRASH.
The metallic clang rang throughout the workshop. Every researcher immediately froze, Sandrone stared down at the scattered instruments littering the floor and a dangerous silence followed, she pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Oh, wonderful," she said through gritted teeth. "Look at what you idiots did."
Nobody pointed out that she had been the one to knock it over.
"Now I have to clean up this mess. Maybe if you were all remotely competent, this wouldn't have happened in the first place."
The researchers collectively looked as though they wished the floor would swallow them whole. Meanwhile, outside the room Columbina couldn't help the small smile threatening to form.
Even after all these years, some things clearly hadn't changed. Her heart was pounding as she quietly stepped inside the room.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
Fear suddenly gripped her, what if this wasn't real? What if she is so tired from the journey she is just imagining it all.
But she had already lost too many years.
No one noticed Columbina presence for a moment.
No one except Sandrone.
Still fuming, the beige-haired girl spun around prepared to unleash another barrage of insults at whoever had dared interrupt her.
"I swear, if it's another one of you idiots, I'll have to deal with—"
The words died instantly, Sandrone finally looked toward the doorway towards Columbina.Time seemed to stop, anger drained from her face so quickly it was almost frightening her body went rigid.
The researchers faded into the background. The workshop, the noise, the scattered tools on the floor everything disappeared. There was only a woman standing in the doorway.
Sapphire eyes met Lavender ones for the first time in years.
Sandrone's lips parted slightly.
No sound came out.
The expression on her face was one Columbina had never expected to see: complete and utter disbelief. As though she too was staring at a ghost.
Neither moved.
Neither spoke.
After years of separation, after years of grief, longing, and unanswered questions, they could only stand there and stare at one another, each silently wondering if the other would vanish the moment they blinked.
Sandrone's mind was drowning in words, thousands of them.
Questions.
Disbelief.
Hope.
Yet not a single one managed to escape her lips.
For once, the woman who always seemed to have an answer, who could fill entire rooms with her sharp observations and relentless logic, stood utterly speechless. This was Columbina standing before her.
Her blue eyes widened, every carefully maintained wall around her heart cracking under the weight of what she was seeing.
Impossible.
She had spent so long convincing herself that she would never see her again, yet there she was. A crushing wave of guilt washed over Sandrone. She had died, yet Columbina never stopped searching for her. Through all the years, she held onto the hope that one day they would find each other again.
"Sandrone..." The whisper barely reached her ears. Columbina's voice trembled, fragile and breathless, as though speaking itself had become difficult. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, her heart hurt. The moment her gaze found Sandrone's eyes, she could no longer look away.
How many times had she imagined this?
How many nights had she closed her eyes and pictured that familiar face?
The elegant features she knew by heart, the icy blue eyes that had always softened when they looked at her. That expression that now held the same disbelief she felt.
How long has it been?
The question echoed through Columbina's mind.
Days.
Months.
Years.
Time had ceased to mean anything after they were separated. Every sunrise felt wrong, every night had stretched endlessly, every moment without Sandrone had been another reminder of what she had lost an eternity. That was the only way she could describe it, an eternity spent missing someone she wasn't sure she would ever see again.
Her throat tightened, she wanted to say everything, Columbina wanted to tell Sandrone about the countless nights she had cried herself to sleep.
About how she searched for traces of her in every familiar place.
About the unbearable silence that followed her wherever she went.
About the ache that never left.
She wanted to tell her how many times she had whispered her name into the night, hoping somehow she would hear, but the words refused to come.
Slowly, cautiously, Columbina took a step forward.
Then another.
As though she feared moving too quickly would shatter reality.
Her eyes never left Sandrone.
"I waited for you..." she whispered.
The words splintered apart as soon as they left her lips. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring the figure standing before her.
"I cried for you to come back to me. I..."
Her voice broke.
A sob caught in her throat, choking off the rest of her sentence. She lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to steady herself.
Why was this so difficult?
She had imagined this moment a thousand times. Every greeting, every question, every confession had been carefully woven together during the countless nights she spent missing her.
Yet now that Sandrone stood before her, every prepared word abandoned her. All that remained was the overwhelming ache in her chest, the desperate relief of seeing her again, and the lingering terror of losing her once more.
"I thought you were gone." The confession escaped in a shaky breath.
"I thought..." Her shoulders trembled violently.
"I thought I'd never see you again."
The last words came out barely louder than a whisper. Years of grief, loneliness, and hope were packed into that single sentence. Columbina stared at Sandrone through tear-filled eyes, as though she was afraid that the moment she looked away, she would vanish.
Before Columbina realized it, the words were spilling from her lips faster than she could stop them, driven by everything she had held back for so long.
"I tried to be strong."
A small, broken laugh slipped through, fragile and pained.
"It didn't work."
Another tear traced down her cheek.
"Nobody helped me either, everyone thought I should've moved on."
Something inside Sandrone shattered at the sight of her. Columbina stood there before her, trembling with grief and relief all at once.
Because of her.
Because she had been gone.
Because Columbina had mourned her.
Because Columbina had loved her.
The realization struck harder than any blade ever could. Sandrone drew in a shaky breath, for the first time since seeing her, she moved.
One step.
Then another.
The distance between them suddenly felt unbearable, as if every second apart had been a mistake neither of them could undo.
Too much time had already been lost.
Columbina watched her approach, hope flickering across her face—raw, fragile, almost frightened of its own existence.
As though she was afraid that believing in it would make it disappear.
“Columbina.”
Sandrone finally spoke, her voice was rough and unsteady. The sound of it nearly made Columbina cry harder because she had missed hearing it more than she could ever explain.
Sandrone stopped only when they stood inches apart.
Close enough to see every tear.
Every trembling breath.
Every tiny detail she thought she had lost forever.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Neither dared.
Sandrone slowly lifted a hand, her fingers hesitating in the space between them. As though she needed proof that this wasn't another dream. When her fingertips finally touched Columbina's cheek, warmth greeted her skin.
Real.
Columbina was real.
The realization nearly stole Sandrone's breath and a broken sound escaped her, half laugh and sob.
"You're here."
Such simple words.
Yet they carried the weight of years. Columbina leaned into the touch instantly, closing her eyes, holding onto Sandrone's hand as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded.
"I'm here," she whispered.
Another tear slipped free.
"And you're here too."
Something in Sandrone finally broke, All the restraint, composure and the strength she had forced herself to maintain.
Gone.
She pulled Columbina into her arms, the embrace was desperate and fierce almost like someone reclaiming a piece of their soul. Columbina gasped softly before clutching her just as tightly.
Neither cared about dignity.
Neither cared about appearances.
All that mattered was this.
The warmth of each other's presence.
The steady beat of two hearts that had spent far too long apart.
For the first time in what felt like forever, neither of them was alone as they held each other, tears falling freely, words became unnecessary because some feelings were simply too large for words.
"Columbina..."
Sandrone's voice broke the silence between them. For a moment, Columbina didn't answer; she stood motionless, fingers curled tightly into the back of Sandrone's dress as though reassuring herself that she was real.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
"...You're warm."
Sandrone blinked.
"What?"
A faint laugh escaped Columbina, though tears still lingered in her eyes.
"You're warm."
Her forehead rested against Sandrone's shoulder.
"I was beginning to forget."
The confession struck Sandrone harder than any accusation could have. Columbina’s grip tightened slightly.
"So many years..."
Her voice remained soft.
No bitterness.
No anger.
Only quiet sadness.
"I kept wondering what I would say if I ever saw you again."
Sandrone felt her chest tighten.
"And?"
A long silence followed.
Then Columbina smiled.
"I don't remember."
The answer caught Sandrone completely off guard.
Columbina laughed quietly through her tears.
"None of it seems important anymore."
For the first time, her composure cracked. A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"I just wanted to know you were truly here."
The room fell silent. Sandrone stared at her for several seconds. Then, without a word, she reached up and took Columbina's hand.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Pressing it against her own heartbeat.
"There."
Her voice was rough.
A little unsteady.
"As real as I've ever been."
Columbina's eyes widened. For a moment, she simply listened to the steady rhythm beneath her palm. The proof she had spent years hoping for while a soft smile appeared on her lips. This time, when she cried, she did so quietly.
Sandrone pretended not to notice.
But she never let go of her hand.
Without hesitation Sandrone wrapped her arms around her once more, the sensation alone was enough to unsettle her. For years, she had imagined this moment. Now that Columbina is here, she found herself strangely unprepared for it.
Slowly, Sandrone tightened her embrace.
Careful.
Protective.
Almost afraid that if she loosened her grip, Columbina might disappear again.
"...You're still crying." It was meant to sound irritated but It didn't.
Columbina let out a quiet laugh against her shoulder.
"And whose fault is that?"
Sandrone clicked her tongue,the familiar exchange eased something tight in her chest.
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Sandrone lowered her gaze.
"...I'm sorry."
The words came reluctantly.
Columbina froze.
Sandrone rarely apologized.
"I should have come back sooner."
A long silence followed.
When Columbina finally pulled back enough to look at her, there was sadness in her eyes but no anger.
"No."
Sandrone frowned.
"No?"
Columbina gently shook her head.
"You came back."
As if that alone was enough.
As if every year apart could be outweighed by the simple fact that she was standing here now.
Sandrone's chest tightened. She reached up and brushed away a tear from Columbina's cheek with surprising gentleness.
The touch lingered.
"I made you suffer."
"Perhaps."
There was no bitterness in Columbina's voice.
Only honesty.
Then a faint smile curved her lips.
"But you're here now."
Sandrone stared at her.
The forgiveness in those words felt heavier than any accusation.
"...You make it very difficult to stay miserable."
A soft laugh escaped Columbina. "I know."
For the first time since returning, Sandrone found herself smiling as well.
Small.
Barely visible.
But real.
And Columbina looked at her as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
For a long moment, Sandrone said nothing. She simply just looked at Columbina as she was the most precious thing in the world left to offer.
"...You've been troublesome."
The words lacked their usual bite.
A faint smile touched Sandrone's lips.
"I suppose I've missed that."
Columbina's eyes widened slightly before soft laughter escaped her.
"There you are."
Her fingers tightened against the fabric of Sandrone's coat as she stepped closer. For a moment neither of them spoke, then Columbina lowered her gaze.
"I waited for you."
The confession came quietly.
"I know."
"I kept hoping."
Sandrone's jaw tightened.
"I know."
"Even when everyone told me to stop."
A silence followed.
Sandrone carefully lifted a hand and rested it against the back of Columbina's head.
The gesture was awkward, almost hesitant.
Yet she didn't pull away.
"...I know."
Columbina finally looked up at her, tears still lingered in her eyes, but there was a smile there as well.
"And now you're here."
Something flickered across Sandrone's expression.
Regret.
Relief.
Affection she could never quite put into words.
"Yes."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I'm here."
This time, neither of them let go.
"Then don't leave me again."
Columbina's voice was barely above a whisper, soft enough that only Sandrone was meant to hear it.
For the first time, Sandrone found herself at a loss for words. She hated promises. Hated making them, hated the uncertainty they carried. Yet the look in Columbina's eyes unraveled every excuse before it could form.
With a quiet exhale, Sandrone reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she pressed a gentle kiss against Columbina's forehead.
The room fell silent.
Columbina blinked, clearly surprised.
Sandrone looked away almost immediately, her expression tightening as if annoyed by her own display of affection.
"Tch."
A pause.
Then, much quieter
"...I'm not going anywhere." The words felt foreign on her tongue.
Columbina's eyes softened.
"No?"
Sandrone finally met her gaze again.
"No."
There was no irritation in her voice this time. No sarcasm. No walls left to hide behind.
Just certainty.
For a moment, Columbina simply smiled. A small, warm smile that somehow said more than any words could.
"I'll hold you to that, Sandrone."
"...Do as you like."
Yet Sandrone made no attempt to pull away when Columbina slipped her hand into hers.
“I always had a plan to come back. Don't you know me by now?” she said with a faint smirk.
“I am a genius, after all.”
A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she pulled back, her gaze drifting down to Columbina once more.
Columbina tilted her head slightly, a faint smile touching her lips.
"A genius, hm? I never doubted that you would return."
Her eyes remained closed, yet somehow she seemed to be looking straight through her.
"Though I wonder... was it truly your plan, or merely where fate carried you?"
The woman with lavender eyes lifted her gaze to meet Sandrone's once more. Hope lingered there, shining through the last traces of tears. As they faded, a familiar smile curved her lips—soft, playful, and impossibly warm.
For a moment, Sandrone simply stared.
She had imagined this reunion countless times. None of those imaginings had prepared her for the reality of it.
"...You took your time."
The words came out sharper than intended.
Columbina's smile widened.
"I know."
A quiet laugh escaped her, melodic and light.
"I missed you too."
Sandrone clicked her tongue and looked away.
"That isn't what I said."
"No," Columbina agreed gently.
"It isn't."
Silence settled between them.
Then Sandrone exhaled.
"...I'm home, Columbina."
Something softened in Columbina's expression.
Without hesitation, she stepped forward, resting her forehead against Sandrone's. Her hands rose to cup her cheeks, careful and tender. Sandrone stiffened for only a moment before allowing herself to lean into the touch.
The corners of Columbina's lips curved upward.
"Welcome home, my dear Sandrone."
For once, Sandrone offered no retort. She merely closed her eyes and stayed exactly where she was.
After years of longing, they had found their way back to one another.
And this time, neither intended to let go.