The earth beneath their feet was soft, still damp from the morning rain. Ivy and Elian walked in silence, side by side, their fingers brushing occasionally but never truly linking. The silence wasn't empty—it was brimming. With memories, with questions unspoken, with all the things Ivy thought she had buried long ago.
The forest had changed since the day Ivy first ran into it, wild with hurt. The trees seemed to lean closer now, not to trap her, but to hold her. Birds flitted between branches like scattered thoughts, and somewhere far off, the river whispered her name.
"Elian," she finally said, voice quiet. "Why did you come back?"
He paused. "Because everything I tried to build without you fell apart."
Ivy glanced at him, catching the rawness in his expression. "You could've stayed away. You could've forgotten me. It would've been easier."
"I did try," he admitted, stopping beneath the old willow tree. "But I kept remembering this place. This tree. The way we carved our names here when we were too young to know what forever meant."
Her gaze followed his hand as he reached out to touch the bark. The initials were still there, faint but enduring: I + E. It felt like a ghost of a promise, one that had slept in the wood and waited for them.
"I didn't think love could grow again after being cut," Ivy murmured. "But I was wrong."
The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above them. Elian turned to her, his voice low and steady. "Love has roots, Ivy. Even if it breaks on the surface, it grows underneath. Quiet. Strong. Waiting."
Something broke in her then—not in a way that shattered, but in a way that let light in. Her tears came without drama, sliding down her cheeks as she leaned into his chest.
"I was so afraid," she whispered. "That I'd never feel like I belonged again. That everything we had was just... a moment."
He wrapped his arms around her, grounding her like the roots he spoke of. "You belong wherever your heart is. And my heart—it never left you."
They stood like that for a long time, the forest humming around them. When Ivy pulled back, there was a quiet steadiness in her.
"There's something I want to show you," she said.
They followed the winding path deeper into the woods, their hands now joined without hesitation. Ivy led him to the grove where the Wish Tree once stood. Only a stump remained now, but around it grew something new—a ring of blossoms unlike any Elian had seen.
"I planted them after I said goodbye," Ivy said. "Every petal holds a memory. A moment I thought I had to let go of. But now I think... maybe they were meant to stay."
Elian knelt beside the flowers. "They're beautiful."
"They're honest," Ivy corrected. "They're messy and crooked and some of them wilted before they bloomed. But they're mine. Ours."
A single silver blossom drifted down and landed on Elian's shoulder. He picked it up and held it out to her. "Then maybe we can make something new. Something strong."
Ivy took the blossom and tucked it into his pocket. "We already are."
They sat in the grove until the sky turned gold, their laughter threading through the trees like a song only they remembered. It wasn't perfect—nothing ever would be—but it was real. And maybe, just maybe, that was better.
As the sun dipped lower, Ivy rested her head on Elian's shoulder. "Do you ever wonder why we had to break?"
"All the time," he answered. "But maybe... maybe we broke so we could grow back stronger. Like roots after a fire."
She smiled. "Then let's grow."
And under the watchful gaze of the forest, where love had once fallen silent, Ivy and Elian began again—where roots held the past, but also reached for the sky.