He watched her from afar.
It felt as though everything around him disappeared.
As if, in this hall filled with light and guests, only she remained—Julia.
She sat gracefully on the couch, back straight, a wine glass in her hand, a faint smile on her lips.
That was how he remembered her.
That was how he loved her.
That was how he was losing her.
And memory rushed in—sharp, overwhelming.
Back then…
He carried her in his arms after the wedding.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with nervous excitement.
He felt her heart racing under his fingertips.
He brought her into the bedroom.
Soft light. Rose petals. The crackling of the fire.
He laid her on the bed gently, as though she were made of crystal.
"You're trembling," he whispered.
"It's… happiness," she replied, looking into his eyes.
He leaned down and kissed her.
At first—tenderly, hesitantly.
But she opened up to him, and the kiss deepened.
Hungry. Real. Infinite.
One hand slid along her waist, exploring her skin slowly.
The other undid the buttons of his shirt, one by one.
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Their tongues met, twining together.
He kissed her lips, then her cheek, then lower—to her neck, where her skin shivered under his breath.
She arched toward him, a soft, breathy moan escaping her lips.
"Kailan…"
He didn't answer with words.
He answered with his mouth—his lips tracing every line of her body, his hands memorizing every curve.
He worshipped her, slowly, deliberately.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"I'm burning…" she whispered, clinging to him.
He slid the dress from her shoulders with reverence.
Not tearing, but unveiling—like undressing a treasure.
She lay before him, breathless, eyes wide, trusting.
And he kissed her chest, once… then again…
Then with heat that made her shudder, her fingers sinking into his hair.
She gasped.
Soft. Honest. Bare.
His lips moved lower, caressing her skin as if she were made of stars.
He devoured her slowly, with love and hunger in equal measure.
When he entered her, she trembled.
Tightened her grip on his hand.
Wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper.
Their rhythm became one.
Slow. Deep.
First careful—then desperate.
He held her gaze as she gave herself to him fully.
He held her body as she trembled and gasped, whispering his name with every wave.
Her nails grazed his back.
Her breath came in broken moans.
He kissed her again—her forehead, her cheek, her eyelids.
"You're mine," he whispered.
"Forever?" she asked, her voice small against his shoulder.
He kissed her lips.
"Forever."
He didn't know, then—
that "forever" could die in silence.
That snow would one day fall between them.
That he would choose Lia.
Back in the banquet hall.
Laughter. Music. Crystal light.
But his chest was hollow.
He watched Julia.
The curve of her shoulder.
Her neck.
A drop of wine on her lips.
And the way her tongue slowly captured it—
as if she knew every man in the hall wanted to be that drop.
He remembered how her body had trembled under his hands.
Her sighs. Her surrender. Her whispers:
"Only with you."
Now she looked through him.
As if he were a stranger.
As if none of it had ever happened.
And in that moment—
He realized:
He had lost her.
Forever.
And she had returned stronger. Colder. More irresistible.
And he wanted her.
More than ever.
But now—
She was no longer his.
Now…
She was his punishment.