I can't stop imagining your dreams now," Alaric whispered against her lips, his breath warm, his voice heavy with amusement and something more tender.
Salviana let out a soft chuckle—but it faded almost as soon as it left her mouth.
She looked away, toward the waterfall, her fingers idly curling around the pendant at her neck. "Alaric," she said quietly, "you are the one who's made sure my dreams didn't come true for months."
His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
She met his gaze then—no anger, just a quiet ache in her eyes. "Can we not talk about it?"
Alaric pressed his lips together as he sighed, "I'm sorry," he said.
Salviana blinked back her sadness as she said, "I've dreamt of you for so long. Not just in my sleep. In every stolen moment. I want to be yours, wholly. But you… you always stop."
The mood shifted.
The laughter between them fell silent, and the world around them seemed to grow still—save for the constant crash of water against stone.
