The city shrinks at this hour. The field swallows everything that wants to be quiet. Jonas: "Same place, same sunset." Lena: "Feels like it's waiting for us."
Lena: "Remember when we thought we'd never leave?" Jonas: "We thought a lot of things."
Lena (flat, rehearsed): "I booked a one-way ticket." Jonas (surprised): "One-way?" Lena (soft, not meeting his eyes): "Three months, maybe more."
This place kept receipts for everything we'd been brave enough to try. Jonas (low): "You get a gig and you… leave? Is it that easy?" Lena (hurt, honest): "It's not easy. It's terrifying. It's just… I can't keep waiting for something to hand me a life." Jonas (pained): "And what am I? A bench until you decide?"
Lena (firmer, quieter): "No. You're not a bench. And I'm not leaving to run from you." Jonas (soft): "Then don't run from me because you're brave." (They laugh — brittle, then something more real.)
Lena (smiling through ache): "Promise me one thing?" Jonas: "?" Lena: "Meet me for a sunset. No matter where we are. Text if you have to — but don't let this be the last time this field remembers us." Jonas (soft): "Promise." They laugh, then settle.
