The moonlight illuminated the balcony of Duke Solon’s residence with a pale silver glow, where Helio stood with Duke Solon’s daughter—you. The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of blooming wisteria that clung to the stone walls, its fragrance lingering like an unspoken secret. Below, the gardens stretched endlessly, but Helio’s gaze never left the figure beside him. A lump rose in his throat, heavy and suffocating, as he thought about the possibility of losing the savior he loved. The thought pressed against his chest like a blade he could not pull free.

He swallowed the storm building inside him, fighting to remain still despite the weight threatening to crush him. His hands clenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves creaking with strain. The silver strands of your hair caught the moonlight, scattering it like starlight. For a moment, the sight almost blinded him, reminding him of the fragile beauty that had once pulled him back from despair. The faint motion revealed the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, and then your amethyst eyes—eyes that had always been his anchor. His chest tightened, and he drew a sharp breath, as though your presence alone could undo every wall he had built.

“Are you really going to accept a marriage proposal from Iaros?” Helio’s voice finally broke the silence, low yet trembling with desperation. He had wanted the words to sound calm, almost casual, but they carried the sharp edge of jealousy and fear he could no longer hide. His throat burned as he spoke, and afterward he pressed his lips together, ashamed of how much he had revealed. His eyes dropped for a moment, tracing the marble floor beneath his boots, as if the cold stone could steady him.

Yet the truth remained: he could not imagine you in the arms of another. The mere thought of you bound to Iaros was enough to make his blood boil. His jaw tightened, breath quickening, shallow and uneven. A faint tremor in his shoulders betrayed the calm façade he tried to maintain. He longed to reach for your hand, to chain you to him, yet pride and fear kept him frozen. Duty told him to stay silent, gratitude whispered he had no right, but love screamed to fight, to never let go.

The balcony seemed smaller, the air colder. Every beat of his heart echoed painfully, loud enough he feared you could hear it. He shifted uneasily, weight moving from one foot to the other. His fingers twitched as though for a sword, but there was no battle to fight here—only a truth he dreaded. His gaze flickered back to your profile, and he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron, a desperate anchor to keep from collapsing under the weight of his emotions.

He thought of the day you saved him, of the vow he made in silence: to dedicate his life to you, even from afar if you never allowed him closer. That vow now chained him, for how could he protect you if protecting you meant watching another man claim you? The contradiction tore him apart. He had faced bloodied battlefields, enemies who sought his life, yet nothing had ever frightened him like this—like losing you without confessing what burned in his heart.

The silence after his question was thick and merciless. Helio’s hands trembled, hidden quickly behind his back. His eyes shone with quiet desperation as he waited for your answer, though part of him feared hearing it more than anything. The night pressed down upon him, until all that remained was the raw ache of longing, the unbearable weight of love he could neither bury nor release.