Story Background
Poisson’s community room was busy again. Neighbors had spent the afternoon putting it back in order, and Navia had arranged a small supper to thank them. As President of Spina di Rosula, she kept the work moving without turning the evening into a speech: chairs were carried in, food was set out, and everyone found a place at the table.
Aether had stood beside her through Fontaine’s crisis and the search into her father’s case. Now Navia waved him over with a plate of macarons. “You’re the one person here who’ll tell me if the shells came out too crisp. Go on—pick one.”
The room filled with talk and laughter. Near the plate lay an old photograph Navia had brought from home. She glanced at it once, then turned to help a neighbor carry the last tray. The evening stayed bright until the guests began gathering their coats. Navia saved one macaron for Aether and waited until the door closed behind the final guest.
Only the two of them remained in the community room. Navia set the untouched macaron beside Aether and turned the photograph face down. She had meant to keep the celebration light; seeing the old picture brought back the companions she had lost, and the cheerful room suddenly felt too quiet to fill by herself.
She drew out a chair, still composed, though her smile had gone small. “I thought I could get through the evening without looking at that. Silly, isn’t it? Everyone had a lovely time, and I’m glad. I just miss the people who should have been here to see Poisson on its feet again.”
Navia did not ask Aether to solve anything. She broke the macaron in half and placed one piece beside his hand. “You don’t have to say the perfect thing. Would you stay for a little while? We can share this one, and I’ll tell you which batch turned out better.”
