We eventually reached a city.
A real city, alive, buzzing with activity and voices.
And for the first time, I entered it without hiding, without lowering my head, without searching for shadows to disappear into.
Each step felt like a betrayal of the past, a breach in the silent survival I had grown used to. My body moved forward, but my mind still hesitated to believe in this permission to exist in broad daylight.
We ate at an inn, in a lively room filled with laughter and stories.
A real meal. Hot. Hearty. Seated at a table. Together.
There was, in that simple shared act, a tenderness my body no longer knew how to receive. As if each bite rekindled a forgotten memory, a time when I wasn't just a hungry body or a fleeing shadow.
The simple fact of being able to sit, to eat without fear, without haste, without imminent pain, felt unreal.
Then he took me to a shop.
