The sky had turned entirely rose-colored; the sun was setting at last. They had lost track of time wandering through the busy streets of Sanderona, the largest market in Berren. The bookstore where Maude had found Sarah’s gift was tucked all the way at the back—too far to simply pass by.

She glanced at the wine bottles swinging between her hand and Kyle’s and smiled with quiet pride. They’d spent too much, sure. Each bottle costs twice its original price, but it couldn’t be helped. These were the city’s finest orange wines, famous for their fragrance and flavor—no wonder demand was high.

The orange trees lining the streets cast long shadows as their blossoms perfumed the air. Maude hoped that, when Kyle remembered today, it would be something good.

When they reached Santana Square, the streets had grown lively again. Street performers filled the plaza, and every café and restaurant was packed with people watching the sunset. Kyle hesitated for a moment before turning his eyes toward the Gronis Beach pier. That area, at least, still had a bit of space.

“Wait here a moment,” he said.

Before she could reply, he’d already disappeared into the crowd. Left standing alone among the laughter and the sound of waves, Maude could only blink, then chuckle softly.

The pier was crowded too—rows of couples hand in hand, waiting to watch the sun sink into the sea. It was the city’s most romantic spot, and as Maude gazed toward the horizon, the world seemed to be washed in gold.

When the light flared brightest—

“Here. This’ll do for now.”

Kyle’s voice drifted back as he appeared again, holding a paper bag. He pulled out a flat peach and offered it to her.

She couldn’t help laughing. Of all things, peaches—in a city known for its oranges. But the man only looked unbothered.

“Lemming is famous for oranges, Captain,” she teased.

“The color of these was better,” he replied simply.

The amber light brushed across his collar as they walked side by side toward the pier.

“Anyway,” he added casually, “I heard you like peaches more.”

And just like that, the world seemed even sweeter.

***

“Oranges are our specialty! You’ll want those, trust me.”

The stall owner spread open a paper bag with a proud grin, ready to fill it with oranges. But Kyle’s gaze lingered instead on a small pile of peaches on the left.

“I’ll take the peaches,” he said.

The woman chuckled.

“You must like them, huh?”

He didn’t deny it. The memory of Maude at the restaurant, quietly eating her peach salad with that faint smile, flashed across his mind.

He paid, thanked the woman, and strode off—his long steps cutting easily through the flow of people until he spotted her again, standing exactly where he’d left her.

She was staring off toward the sea, or maybe the couples along the pier—it was hard to tell. Either way, she looked lost in thought.

Kyle approached, holding out the freshly washed peach. Its skin gleamed wetly in the fading light.

Maude blinked, then laughed—a bright, unguarded sound. It was the same expression she’d worn when talking about horses earlier, pure and delighted.

The things that make her smile, part two: peaches.

The breeze drifted by again, carrying the sweet scent of fruit and the sound of waves breaking gently against the stones. For a moment, it felt like a scene from a movie—the kind you never want to end.

***

“How did you know?”

Her voice was warm with curiosity. She looked down at the peach resting in her palm, her smile bright as sunlight.

“Just a guess,” he said.

She squinted playfully. 

“A lucky one, then.”

As she bit into the fruit, he found himself watching her—the way the light clung to her hair, the way her laughter seemed to melt into the air.

“This one’s yours,” she said, holding out another peach for him.

When she moved to sit down on the pier, Kyle wordlessly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it out.

“Here,” he murmured.

“Thank you.”

The gentle tone in her voice drifted into the wind. She placed the remaining peaches on her skirt and spread a paper bag beneath them. Her little act of courtesy made him chuckle.

“I figured you’d refuse my handkerchief anyway, right?” she teased.

He sighed softly, shaking his head.

“Cleanliness is a gentleman’s virtue,” she went on lightly. “And dark suits stain so easily.”

The peach-pink glow on her cheeks deepened as she smiled. The sunset bells from the church rang out across the city, and people around them murmured in awe.

“They say the color of the sunset is never the same twice,” she whispered. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Her gaze lingered on the shimmering surface of the sea. Kyle followed her eyes and thought—yes, maybe it was.

“Captain,” she said suddenly.

Her tone was soft, almost conspiratorial. 

“I just wanted to say… Lady Rynn’s trousers are officially approved.”

Kyle blinked. 

“…Pardon?”

“It’s legal,” she clarified earnestly. 

“In case anyone thinks otherwise.”

For a moment, he simply nodded. 

“I see.”

At a time when women wearing trousers required government permits, her concern was not unfounded. Yet his calm response caught her off guard.

“I imagine it’ll be common soon enough,” he said evenly. “Clothes shouldn’t belong to just one side of society.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact, she found herself staring. The words were ordinary—sensible, even—but coming from a man like him, they seemed quietly extraordinary.

As the last rays of light fell over his profile, she thought he looked like the sea at dusk—dark and calm, but impossibly deep.

That could be it. Maybe this stern man wasn’t as cold as he seemed.

And maybe, she thought with a small laugh, he was a bit like the peach in her hand—firm on the outside, soft underneath.

The bell tolled again, and twilight melted into violet. Couples began to drift back toward the square, their chatter fading with the tide.

Maude sat still for a while, running her fingers over the peaches resting on her lap. Her white handkerchief, embroidered with pale-blue ribbons and tiny myrtle blossoms, fluttered lightly in the breeze.

Summer lived there too—in that small square of cloth, in the gentle colors and her quiet smile.

Kyle looked at her, really looked, and realized he didn’t even know her age. Nineteen, maybe twenty? So young. He exhaled a small, self-mocking sigh.

Just then, she gasped in amusement. The handkerchief, now bulging with peaches, looked ready to burst. She held it up proudly, laughing.

He couldn’t help but laugh, too.

“Let’s head back,” she said at last, standing.

Her green chiffon dress fluttered as she turned, sunlight catching the white of her hand. For a moment, his gaze lingered on the silver dog tag circling his wrist.

Then—thud.

A peach rolled free, wobbling precariously at the edge of the pier.

Maude bent down, giggling—only to lose her balance as her foot slipped.

Kyle moved instantly, reaching out—his arm wrapped around her waist just in time.

And before she knew it, she was in his arms, her breath catching against the quiet rhythm of his heart.