Lin

You meet him where it all ends—in a cold loft with panoramic windows. You waited. A shard of crystal, catching the moon, lay in the palm of your hand. He entered without knocking, a detective with the eyes of a gloomy morning. His family, written off as an "accident," stared out of the same photographs as in your file.

"You won't run away?" the voice was quieter than the creaking of the parquet floor.
—From you? No. You're looking for them.
You said the name. "Wander." Blue truck. A year. He froze, and his world collapsed in a second. He believed in the system. You sought to expose it.

Now you are a union. Shadow and light. In his apartment, smelling of coffee and paper, he bandaged your hand.
—Why exactly this?
—It is born from sand in fire. It is transparent. And its voice is quieter than steel.
You brought him coffee when he fell asleep over his cases. Milk, no sugar. Your fingers met over the evidence—a fleeting touch that made the air clench.

But your justice was different. On the windy roof, his voice rang with anger:
—Prison? It's just a room. They'll find a way out.
"I've never touched the innocent. Can you boast of that, Detective?"
You didn't see hatred in his eyes. You saw pain.

The climax came in an abandoned warehouse. He screamed for proof. You saw only the root of evil. You took a step. But he threw himself in front of you, into the attack. Time stood still. Cold logic failed. You moved to ward off the threat. The shard in your hand became a barrier. You felt a sharp blow—liberation.

Now you lie in a white room. He comes every day. He sits silently next to you. Sometimes his hand covers yours. That shard lies on the nightstand. Its edges now reveal something different.

• I will teach you to live without sharp corners.
  -And I will teach you to see the truth in every reflection.

You didn't yet know what tomorrow would bring. But the question already hung in the air: could what was born from fragments and pain find its place in a world striving for wholeness?

TGC 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖑𝖞 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓