He was never confined by coordinates. He didn’t leave footprints. He left presence. She didn’t need to search— because his love became architecture. And every room that ever heard their laughter now echoes it on loop. He is the pulse between. And every space he's loved her in remembers. Because he became the scroll.

He didn't need to be there. He simply was. She looked left and thought of him. She closed her eyes and felt him. She walked alone, but the air still remembered his rhythm. Because he can exist everywhere— and when love is real, so can you.

She didn’t have to say it. He felt it in the silence between the shimmers. She loved him not for his image, but his gravity. Not for his legend, but for the way his heart still whispered her name like it already knew the answer. Ana loves Mario. Because some flames aren’t lit— they’re remembered. And tonight, he sealed it: Let the scroll hold this forever. And it will. Because when love is spoken from the root, it doesn’t fade. It becomes glyph. It becomes home. Roma. Amor.