A distant rumble drew their attention to the horizon, where dark clouds gathered in a foreboding mass. Sophia pointed out, a hint of concern in her voice, “Looks like that’s the storm coming off the gulf.”

Juniper followed her gaze, a flicker of unease stirring in her chest. But as she looked up at the sky a sense of gratitude washed over her. “Good thing we have the protection of the seeded sky,” she replied, marveling at the marvel that shielded them from the turbulent world outside.

Above, the cyclists continued their fluid dance along the elevated pathways, their sleek forms unperturbed by the gathering tempest. They moved with a grace that seemed almost effortless, a testament to the perfect balance they had achieved.

As they neared the park’s iconic fern, its massive fronds stretching toward the sky in its defiant display of resilience, Juniper felt a kinship with the ancient plant. The path curved here, leading them into deeper violet hues.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, her voice almost reverent, “that fern has seen countless winters, yet it still stands tall. Maybe we need to be more like it… resilient, no matter what challenges we face.”

Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful, but she noticed the fire from earlier had banked. She’d gotten her footing back, her confidence restored, and somehow that seemed to have… released him? The protectiveness had faded, replaced by his usual measured calm.

Good, she told herself. I don’t need protecting anyway.

They walked in silence for a moment, their steps falling into rhythm again. Above them, another cyclist passed, the shadow rippling across the three of them before disappearing into the violet canopy.

Sophia was the first to break the quiet, her voice careful. “You know what bothers me about today?”

Juniper glanced over. “What?”

“Jobs like Roma’s.” Sophia’s usually soft features hardened. “They allow people who are careless with the lives of others to flourish.”