To Elara, he was a mountain. And like a mountain, he felt impossible to climb.

He brought her rare seeds from the trade market. She, in her quiet way, left jars of honey and dried lavender on his porch. Their conversations were short, punctuated by long, comfortable silences. For Elara, talking to Julian didn't feel like the performance she had to put on for the rest of the world. He didn't demand she be louder or bolder; he simply met her where she was.

"Everyone calls me 'Uncle' because they think I've already settled into the end of my story," Julian said, looking out over the valley. "But standing here with you... it feels like I'm just at the beginning."

Elara felt the familiar heat rise to her cheeks. "I... I can do it," she whispered, her eyes fixed firmly on his boots.