At the canyon’s edge, beneath a sky painted in dusk, they met in silence. She leaned against the table, lace brushing the wind, while he strummed his guitar, each note carrying a secret only the cliffs could keep.

The song was theirs alone—unfinished, unspoken. No words were needed.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she stood, her gaze lingering before she turned away. He watched, played one final chord, and let the canyon swallow their secret whole.

Some things are never said—only felt.