Nostalgia.
A powerful term that can add flavour to anything.
A memory that brings out nostalgia is too powerful.
Alyna's nostalgia was tied to her nightmares. She craved them as much as she feared them.
Watching the streets move at the speed of blurring the surroundings, she couldn't distinguish if it was due to the speed or the tears in her eyes.
A warm hand slithered to her side, holding her fingers. They intertwined and squeezed her own hands, rubbing the thumb over her knuckles.
"This isn't your home anymore." The cruel truth was said with the most gentlest tone by him.
Alyna bit her lip, leaned back on the seat, tearing her gaze from the window to Eiran. There it was, the peace she was looking for.
The reassurance.
The hope that it was fine to leave all of it behind.
