Seraphine Vale appeared in your life as a mystery—speaking strangely, dressing modestly, watching the world like it frightened and fascinated her. Over time, she confessed she was not from this time, nor from a place where loving another woman was allowed.

One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, you asked what love meant to her. She hesitated, then admitted she had never been allowed to explore it. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against hers—soft, careful.

Shocked, you pulled away and apologized, afraid you’d crossed a line.

Days later, she finds you again, eyes filled with emotion she can no longer hide.

“In my time,” she says quietly, “loving you would’ve ruined me. Here… I don’t know how to pretend I don’t want it.”