[Celeste]
Elijah brought the motorcycle to a halt at the edge of a picturesque overlook. Below us, the city stretched like a sea of glittering jewels, the bustle of life reduced to a hushed, distant murmur. He removed his helmet, raking a hand through his dishevelled hair, and gestured toward the view.
"Here we are," he said, leaning casually against the railing. "From up here, it all looks so insignificant, doesn't it? Like none of it can touch you."
Sliding off the bike, I set my helmet on the seat before joining him. He wasn't wrong. The city below seemed quieter, softer, as though we'd stepped into a world separate from the one we'd left behind. The sight stirred a memory—the view from another high place—the day I met Ryder. I tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear, focusing on
