Esme raises her hand. “We’ll put it to a vote. That’s what we do here. Democracy. Remember that?”
They don’t look pleased. But they nod.
The vote takes ten minutes. Paper ballots. No digital interference. Honest, old-fashioned consensus.
The results come back lopsided.
Neutrality wins—overwhelmingly.
The envoys retreat without further argument, their shuttles disappearing into the stratosphere like failed prayers.
The crowd erupts—not with wild celebration, but with something deeper. Relief. Resolve. Pride.
Esme takes my hand as we watch the stars reclaim the sky. The kids run somewhere behind us, squealing and feral.
“Did we do the right thing?” she murmurs.
I turn to her. “We kept them free. That’s always right.”
She leans into me, head on my chest, breath syncing to the rhythm of my hearts. “I just want them to grow up without choosing sides.”
“They’ll choose each other. That’s enough.”
Her fingers curl around mine. “I love you, you know.”
I smile, eyes fixed on the night. “And I love you. Right here. Right now. And always.”
And for once, it doesn’t feel like a lie.
