My heart pounded in my chest as we stood there, the gentle lapping of waves around our waists, the setting sun painting the sky in vibrant colors that seemed to mirror the intensity building between us.
"Arthur," Seraphina said, her small, pale hands taking mine, fingers massaging my palm with unexpected gentleness. "Please, with me."
"Seraphina," I murmured, her name itself a question and an answer all at once.
When her ice-blue eyes met mine, I felt my reservations beginning to dissolve. Yet beneath the surface, fear still lingered—not of her, but of what taking this final step might mean.
Because of what could be. Because of my past. Because of Emma.
The memory of a different life, a different love, haunted me still. But staring into Seraphina's eyes, feeling the warmth of her touch despite her naturally cool skin, I wondered if it wasn't time to finally let go. I was tired of being anchored to ghosts, tired of holding back out of fear of what might be lost.
