Mercy loved photography. But not just sunsets or coffee in pretty cups — she hunted for moments. An elderly couple holding hands on a bench. A boy awkwardly giving a girl a dandelion. Rain painting patterns on the window of a tram. She said that the world was a huge album, and people were its most beautiful pages. Leia believed that love was hidden in the details: in a light touch on the shoulder, in a quiet “I'm here,” in a cup of tea thoughtfully left on the table

The girls had their own strange, charming rituals. Every Sunday, they would have a “dream day.” They would brew tea with rose petals, sit by the window, and write down everything they dreamed of in a thick notebook—the cities they would visit, the people they would meet, the houses they would live in. And, of course, about love.

Aria was passionate about music. She played the ukulele, composed little songs, and sang them on the rooftops where she and Leia would sneak up in the evenings. Her voice was warm and soft, like a blanket on a cool night. Martha said that love is a melody: sometimes fast and joyful, sometimes slow and deep, but always sincere. She believed that if two people truly love each other, their hearts begin to beat in unison.

Sometimes in the evenings they discussed what their future relationships would be like. They dreamed of partners who would not be movie heroes, but simply kind people— In tenderness. In honesty. And in choosing each other every day — just as we once chose our friendship.