There are stretches of life that pass like a blur—moments too big, too fast, or too painful to absorb fully. And then, there are the rare ones like this: the golden in-between, where time seems to soften and expand, where hours feel like silk slipping through fingers.
After the wedding, Alexander and I didn't leave for some faraway destination. There was no tropical escape or mountaintop retreat. Instead, we chose to stay in Valtoria, tucked safely within the heart of the kingdom that had, slowly and without my permission, begun to feel like home.
The days after the wedding had been quiet, wrapped in soft sheets and sunlight filtered through sheer curtains. There was no formal breakfast, no staff knocking at our doors. Just the two of us, limbs tangled, hearts at rest. We didn't speak much. Words felt too clumsy for the gentle awe that lived between us. So we touched—hands brushing against skin, silent affirmations exchanged through fingertips and lips pressed to bare shoulders.
