Aylin looked up, her eyes tracing the jagged silhouettes of the skyscrapers. "A sign like what? A miracle?"
"No," Cem replied, a sad smile touching his lips. "Maybe just something simple. Maybe a bird will fly over us, and in that moment, our shadows will touch on the grass. Maybe that’s all we need to remember why we started this."
Aylin felt a sudden, sharp pang of nostalgia. She reached out, her hand finding Cem’s in the dark. The weight of the silence shifted from heavy to soft. The "bird passing over" wasn't a grand omen, but a reminder that life—and love—is made of fleeting, quiet moments that only matter if you're looking up together.
