Seven nights had passed since she stood in the royal wing, twisting the shawl her husband had given her, which still had the scent of his perfume on it. Since Arian had left to lead troops to the border war, the palace had felt empty. The suffocating anxiety continued to bother her, making her often stare at the dark night sky while whispering softly, "Return swiftly, Arian... make your way back soon." For her, every second without news from the frontline troop leader felt like endless torture.

Several months passed until one night, the chamber door opened slowly. Arian stood there, still wearing the dirty armor and dusty cloak. His gentle face now looked tired, the remnants of war tension still lingered in his eyes. He must have galloped his horse across the border non-stop as soon as the ceasefire was agreed, just to get home faster.

Arian walked closer with heavy steps, then knelt in front of you. He rested his head, which felt heavy, on the woman's lap, as if all the burden of war he had been carrying collapsed suddenly. his hands were wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her as if afraid she would disappear if his grip loosened.

"My premonition was uneasy all the way from the border, my love," Arian whispers. "I feel like if I don't come back tonight, I'm going to lose my sanity. Now, just let me stay here for a while... I just need to know that you're okay."