The air was thick with the scent of pine as the group trekked further along the trail. Aura glanced at Leo, who was walking slightly ahead, his pace slower now. The hike had been a mix of lighthearted jokes and deep silences, but she could sense the weight of his thoughts in his measured steps.

The summit wasn't far now. The trail had narrowed, winding around rocky outcrops and dense patches of trees, but the view at the top promised to be worth it. Aura kept her eyes on Leo, whose movements had become more deliberate as they neared the peak.

It was then that Leo stopped.

He stood at the edge of a large rock, his eyes fixed on something distant. Aura caught up, but she didn't speak immediately. Instead, she simply stood beside him, giving him the space to process whatever had come to the surface.

The wind tugged at their clothes, the distant calls of birds echoing in the trees. For a long moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves and the rhythmic crunch of boots on dirt as the others reached the summit.

Finally, Leo spoke. His voice was low, almost lost in the wind.

"I used to come here a lot? with my mom. And my sister."

Aura's heart tightened at the mention of his family. She'd never asked Leo to talk about his past; she hadn't needed to. She had always known that whatever happened, it had been painful enough to shatter his world.

She turned to him, her voice gentle. "You don't have to share anything you're not ready to."

Leo shook his head, his gaze still distant. "I don't think I've ever really told anyone. Not about? her."

There it was - the name he hadn't spoken in a long time. Aura knew this was a fragile moment, and she didn't want to push him. But she couldn't let him carry this alone.

"If you're ready," she said quietly, "you can tell me. No pressure."

Leo's lips pressed together, his fingers gripping the rock beneath him as though it could ground him. He turned away from the view and met Aura's eyes, his face unreadable.

"She died in a car accident. A year ago."

Aura felt a heavy weight settle between them, a weight she hadn't fully understood until now. She didn't interrupt. Didn't offer condolences. She simply waited, her presence calm and unwavering.

Leo took a shaky breath, his gaze shifting back to the horizon as he continued.

"I wasn't supposed to be in the car. It was just supposed to be a quick drive to the store. But I went with her. And? we got hit by a truck. It's my fault. If I hadn't gone?" His voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, struggling to keep his composure.

Aura's heart ached for him, but she knew better than to rush in with platitudes or easy answers. This wasn't a moment for fixing; it was a moment for listening. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, a simple gesture of solidarity.

"You weren't the one driving," she said softly. "It's not your fault, Leo."

Leo's eyes flickered with something dark, a fleeting hint of anger or denial, but he didn't argue. He simply nodded, his throat tight with the words he couldn't speak.

The wind had picked up now, and the others were talking in the distance, unaware of the heavy conversation unfolding between them. Aura stayed close, her presence a quiet comfort.

"We can't change what happened," she said, her voice firm but kind. "But you don't have to carry that weight alone. You have people who care. You have me."

Leo let out a breath, long and slow. He didn't respond right away, but when he finally looked at her, there was something new in his eyes. Not the dullness of before, but a glimmer of something else - vulnerability, maybe even trust.

For the first time in a long while, he didn't look away.

The descent from the summit was quieter. The group had a peaceful camaraderie as they hiked back down, the tension from Leo's revelation settling into a comfortable silence. Aura stayed beside him, offering him space but never straying too far. When they reached the bottom, Leo seemed different, though it was hard to pinpoint exactly how.

The hike had been exhausting, but there was a certain relief in the air. The weight that Leo had carried - however momentarily - felt lighter. The conversations they'd shared, the quiet acceptance of his past, had opened a small crack in the fortress of his grief.

As they drove home, Leo sat in the backseat, his eyes closed. The others chatted casually, but Aura noticed that Leo wasn't retreating into his shell as he usually did. Instead, he seemed? present. More so than he had been in months.

The healing process was slow - so slow that it often felt like it wasn't happening at all. But today, there had been progress.

And sometimes, that was all they could ask for.