For the first time in weeks, Mina didn’t feel completely alone.

Ren didn’t say much. He never did. But he showed up to the garden every day after that, and that was enough.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they just sat in silence, sipping tea while the petals danced in the wind. It was a strange comfort—like sharing a language without words.

Mina stopped trying to understand it.

She just let it be.

“Have you ever told anyone else?” Ren asked one afternoon.

Mina looked up from her thermos. “About the auras?”

He nodded.

She shook her head. “Only Saki. But she thinks I’m just... overly observant.”

Ren studied her. “I believe you.”

“Because you’re not exactly normal either?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

Mina hesitated. “What is it like, for you? The telepathy.”

Ren leaned back, looking up at the sky through the branches. “It’s like hearing too much. Everyone’s thoughts are loud. Most days, I have to block it out or it becomes noise. But sometimes...” He paused. “Sometimes I hear what people don’t say. And that’s worse.”

Mina frowned. “Because it's real?”

He nodded.

They sat in silence again, this time heavier.

Mina sipped her tea slowly. “But with me, it’s different?”

Ren glanced at her. “You’re not loud. You’re... quiet. Calm.”

Mina blinked. “People don’t usually describe me like that. Not in a good way.”

“Well, they’re wrong.”

She felt a warmth bloom in her chest—just a flicker—but it lingered.