The bridge had been rebuilt.
Steel replaced twisted wreckage. Guardrails gleamed under a soft winter sun. Traffic rolled past unaware of the history embedded in asphalt.
Sierra stood at the midpoint, a white rose in hand.
Julian stood beside her, coat unbuttoned, wind ruffling his hair. His breath frosted as he looked down at the water below.
“This is where it ended," he said quietly.
“And where it began," she replied.
She stepped forward and laid the rose on the edge of the bridge.
“For the versions of us that didn't make it," she whispered.
Julian pulled something from his coat: a pocket holoprojector.
He activated it.
A string of code scrolled into the cold air—soft blue against daylight.
It was titled: **PhoenixLetter.txt**
Her eyes widened as lines scrolled:
> *I sent
