My heart kicks harder against my ribs. Not with fear—with anticipation. With the sense that whatever he's about to say will change everything between us, even though everything already feels impossibly right.
"Okay," I whisper.
He takes a breath, his hands tightening slightly on my hips. "I've been trying to find the right moment. The right words. But there aren't right words for this, so I'm just going to—" He stops, jaw working as he struggles with whatever he's trying to say.
I wait, my thumb stroking his cheekbone in gentle encouragement. Giving him time.
"I love you."
The words hang in the air between us, simple and devastating and exactly what I needed to hear. I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes even as I start smiling—this huge, uncontrollable smile that takes over my entire face.
"Mal." His nickname slips out easily, naturally, because that's what I call him when we're alone like this. When the careful professional distance drops away and there's just us. "I love you too."
His eyes close briefly, relief washing over his features so completely that I realize he was genuinely uncertain of my response. Like he thought there was any possibility I didn't feel the same overwhelming certainty that this—us—is exactly where we're supposed to be.
When he opens them again, they're bright with emotion. Vulnerable in a way he never allows himself to be outside these private moments.
"Say it again," he breathes.
"I love you." The words come easier this time, strengthened by the joy spreading through my chest. "I love you, Malrec Virex. I think I have since the first time you looked at me like you couldn't quite figure me out."
He makes a sound—half laugh, half something more desperate—and then he's kissing me. Deep and thorough and full of everything he can't say out loud yet. His hands slide up my back, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. Until I can feel his heart beating against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring all my certainty into it. All my love and trust and absolute knowledge that this person—this impossible, complicated, brilliant person—is mine. And I'm his.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes stay closed, like he's savoring the moment.
"I never thought—" His voice cracks slightly. "I didn't think I would ever have this. Have you."
"You have me." I cup his face with both hands, making him look at me. Making sure he sees the truth in my eyes. "You've had me for a while now. I was just waiting for you to realize it."
He laughs then—genuine and warm and so full of happiness that it makes my chest ache. "I'm not good at this. At letting people in."
"I know." I smile, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. "That's why it matters so much that you're letting me in."
His arms wrap around me fully, holding me against him with careful strength. Like I'm something precious he's afraid of breaking. Like he can't quite believe I'm real.
"I love you," he says again, testing the words. Getting comfortable with them. "I love you, Lenna."
"I love you too."
We stay like that for a long time, wrapped around each other in the quiet of his study. No urgency, no need to rush toward anything else. Just this perfect moment where everything finally makes sense.
I come back to myself slowly, the memory releasing me in stages. My cheek is pressed against cold stone, my body curled on the floor of the corridor. I'm crying—when did I start crying? Tears streak down my face, my chest heaving with sobs I can't control.
It felt soreal. So vivid and complete and absolutely true. Not like a dream or fantasy but like something that actually happened. Like a piece of my life I somehow lost, and now I'm grieving it.
But that's impossible. I've never been in Malrec's study. Never called him Mal. Never told him I loved him or heard him say it back with that vulnerable honesty that made my heart feel too big for my chest.
Have I?
"Lenna?"
The voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. I blink, trying to focus through tears and disorientation, and find Nimae crouched in front of me. Her violet eyes are wide with concern, one hand extended toward me but not quite touching.
"What happened?" she asks quietly. "I was coming back from the kitchens and found you collapsed here. Are you hurt?"
I shake my head, the motion feeling disconnected from my body. "I'm—I don't know. I'm not hurt. I just?—"
