𝐃𝐀𝐖𝐍 | ʙᴛs ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇs

-Falling Embers-

"Even in ashes, our love still glows."

♛

-ROSE

I never believed in love at first sight. Not in the way books romanticized it-where hearts raced, the world slowed, and two souls aligned under some grand celestial design. No, love-real love-was a slow burn, something built over time, crafted with patience.

Or so I thought.

The first time I saw him, he was just another stranger in a long line of faces. The bookstore smelled of old paper and freshly brewed coffee, a scent that always brought me comfort. My latest novel had just been released, and readers lined up to have their copies signed. Some chatted excitedly, some nervously fumbled with their words, and then-there was him.

I didn't notice him at first. Not until the world quieted around me.

He stood near the end of the line, tall and composed, his presence subtle yet undeniable. He wasn't impatient or eager like the others-no shifting feet, no fidgeting hands. He simply waited, his posture effortlessly controlled, like he was used to standing still for hours without complaint.

And when he reached me, he didn't say much.

"Rose Luna Bianchi," he murmured, my name rolling off his tongue like he had known it for a long time. Like it meant something to him.

I looked up then, properly meeting his gaze. His eyes were deep, dark pools of something unreadable-something that made my breath hitch in my throat. Not admiration, not excitement. Something heavier.

He slid the book toward me, and I hesitated before taking it, gripping my pen a little too tightly. The air between us felt different, charged with something I couldn't define.

"Your words stay," he finally said.

Three simple words. But the way he said them made my heart stutter.

I wasn't sure what he meant-if he had read my books or if they had meant something to him. But he didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask. Instead, I signed his copy, my signature oddly shaky, and slid it back to him.

"Thank you," I said, my voice softer than I intended.

He nodded once, taking the book with careful hands, as if it was something fragile. Then he walked away, disappearing into the sea of people before I could even process the encounter.

I should have forgotten him. I should have moved on to the next reader, smiled, and signed another book.

But I didn't.

Because for the first time in my life, I felt like I had just been seen-not as a writer, not as a public figure, but as me. And something about that terrified me.

.
.
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- AUTHOR

They found eachother again. They dated for days. They spent time together, not so long but enough. They got to know about eachother. They had only a handful of months before the mission called him back. A handful of months that felt both infinite and fleeting, like sand slipping through their fingers no matter how tightly they held on.