The crying stopped not because the storm had passed, but because her body had nothing left to give. Her throat was raw meat. Her eyes burned dry. The tremors faded into weak, random jerks, like a machine winding down. Then darkness didn't creep in—it swallowed her whole.
And then there was warmth.
Not the false heat of fever. Not the sting of pain. Just… warmth. The kind that once meant safety.
Soft amber light bled across her eyelids. The air smelled of citrus soap, hot metal, and the faint sweetness of cheap fried dough. She was smaller. Younger. Sitting on the edge of a rusted maintenance balcony, legs dangling over the humming abyss of the lower transit ducts. Grease streaked her fingers. Her heart felt lighter than it had any right to.
Sene sat beside her, solid and real and alive.
She was chewing slowly on a paper-wrapped lump of street food, eyes half-lidded as she watched the distant traffic beacons flicker like dying stars. The same calm, unshakable presence that had always made Mara feel both safe and stupid at the same time.
Mara's voice came out thin and trembling, the voice of the girl she used to be.
"I'm really jealous of you. How do you do it, Sene?"
Sene didn't look at her. "Do what?"
Mara picked at a loose thread on her sleeve, voice cracking. "Live here. When everything feels so… gloomy and strict. Like the whole damn city is sitting on my chest and I can't breathe."
Sene took another slow bite. For a long moment, only the low rumble of the ducts filled the space between them.
Then she spoke, quiet and rough.
"Because it is heavy, Mara. It's always been heavy. And it's never going to get lighter."
Mara's eyes stung. "That's not fair."
"No. It isn't." Sene finally turned to her. No pity in those eyes. Just something deeper. Something that hurt worse than pity. Love. "You don't beat this place, Mara. You don't wake up one day and become stronger than it. You don't get to stop being scared."
She reached over and bumped Mara's shoulder with her own, warm and familiar.
"You just get stubborn as hell."
Mara let out a shaky laugh that broke halfway. "Stubborn?"
"Yeah." Sene's voice softened, but her eyes stayed fierce. "You wake up even when your soul is screaming at you not to. You eat even when the food tastes like ash. You keep loving people even when you know it's going to rip your fucking heart out."
Her hand found Mara's, grease and all, and squeezed hard enough to bruise.
"You refuse to die. Even if it's only out of spite. Especially if it's out of spite."
Tears spilled down Mara's younger face before she could stop them. Hot. Silent. Shameful.
"What if I'm not strong enough?" she whispered, voice splintering. "What if one day I just… can't anymore?"
Sene was quiet for a long time. The kind of quiet that carried weight.
"Then you rest," she said at last, so gently it hurt. "You let it all crush you for a while. You cry until your eyes swell shut. You scream until your throat bleeds."
She turned fully now, cupping Mara's tear-streaked cheek with a calloused palm.
"And when you wake up… you try again. For me. For yourself. For every stupid reason that still matters."
Mara leaned into that hand, eyes squeezing shut, desperate to memorize the feeling of someone touching her like she was worth saving.
"Sene… I'm scared I'm going to lose you."
The words slipped out small and terrified.
Sene smiled, sad and knowing, and pulled her into a fierce hug. Mara buried her face in her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her—oil, sweat, cheap soap, home.
"You won't lose me," Sene whispered into her hair. "Not really. Not as long as you keep being that stubborn little shit I love."
The memory began to fracture.
The warmth bled away like blood down a drain. The amber light stretched into cold, sick streaks. Sene's arms dissolved around her.
Mara reached desperately, fingers clawing at nothing.
"Sene—wait—"
But the name only echoed back at her, hollow and useless.
The warmth died.
And Mara's eyes snapped open. She woke up in an unfamiliar room.