23rd February, Stellar Year 2924
Night
Capaldi
The house was silent in the way only large houses can be—thick, watchful silence, layered with memories. Dylan stood in the center of his room, folding clothes with precise movements that did not match the tremor in his fingers.
A suitcase lay open on the bed. Half-filled. Half-willing.
At the doorway, Lena leaned against the frame, her arms wrapped around herself. She had been standing there for several minutes, watching him. Watching the rhythm of departure settle into his shoulders.
"Once again," she murmured, almost to the quiet itself, "he is leaving Capaldi. No… he is leaving Arizone."
The words were soft. But Dylan heard them.
His hands paused only for a second. A slight tremble. Then he resumed packing, as though silence could erase what had been spoken.
On the small table near the window, a pot of lavender swayed gently as the night air slipped through the open glass. The scent lingered, stubborn and calming.
