“In the winter?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The roof’s still useful. I put up this tent.” A pause. “Pretend it’s my winter palace.”
There’s something romantic about that.
A brooding prince, alone in his fortress of light and warmth, suspended above a frozen city.
Damian’s eyes trace over my face and down my body. I changed into a new outfit before coming up. My red dress was wrinkled and dirty from crawling on the restaurant floor. Now I’m wrapped in a soft white sweater, the fabric gentle against my skin, paired with a loose pink skirt that swaysand ruffles when I move. It’s comfortable in a way the red dress never was. More me. Still dressed up, but no longer trying to impress someone else.
“You look very pretty tonight,” he says softly, bringing his gaze back up to meet mine.
“You remembered my dream.” I swallow. “Every detail.”
“Yes.”
There’s no triumph in his voice. Just certainty.
“How did you find all of this? Get it up here so quickly?”
A hint of a smile. “I already had some of it. As for the rest…you’d be surprised what you can get delivered in a city like this.”
I step closer, drawn despite myself. “And if I hadn’t come up?”
He meets my gaze. “Then this would’ve stayed untouched. Like you asked.”
That matters more than I want it to.
I walk to the table. Run my fingers over the flowers. The bottle. Proof. Real, physical proof that this wasn’t an impulse.
“This is a lot,” I say.
“I know.” He pauses. “You can still leave.”
I laugh softly. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
Silence stretches. Not awkward. Just heavy.
“One last gift.” Damian picks up a rectangular metal box from the table and hands it over. Inside is a hard drive and a compact hub labeled in neat handwriting: CAMERA SERVER.
“What’s this?” I hold it up.
“The computer that runs the camera. That stores the data.” His voice is calm, steady. “I’ll take out the actual camera tomorrow. I won’t watch you anymore.” A faint smile as he adds, “Unless it’s in person, that is.”
I turn to him. “Don’t assume me being here means forgiveness.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
The wind lifts my hair, tangling it across my face. Before I can brush it away, Damian’s hand rises, then stops. Hovers.
He waits.
This is the moment where I’m supposed to run.
I know that. I feel it like a warning signal flashing in my chest, but still, my body doesn’t move.
Because if I’m honest, the part of me that’s always been lonely recognizes the danger in him and steps toward it anyway.
