The bridge sways slightly under her feet. Not much, just enough to remind her that nothing is truly still.
Riya used to walk this bridge with her. Her footsteps were always lighter, her laughter somehow able to fill the spaces between city sounds. If Riya were here now, she’d probably be standing on the railing, arms outstretched, declaring herself queen of the sky.
“She would’ve done something stupid,” she mutters under her breath. And then she wonders—was it really stupid? Or just fearless?
The river below reflects a blurry version of the world above. She leans over, just slightly, watching her reflection waver.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She doesn’t check it.
She steps back. Not because she wants to, but because the bridge is empty, and she doesn’t want to be the only one standing at the edge.