Time has a peculiar way of slipping through one’s fingers when preoccupied.

Working at Sam’s shop has proven this true. Between tidying up, drawing in customers, and then inevitably scaring them off with just a glance, Malleus finds that hours have both stretched endlessly and vanished in an instant. And now, before he even realizes it, lunchtime has arrived, granting him a brief reprieve.

He doesn't mind. Not entirely. Yes, waking up earlier than usual is a hassle, but it is all part of the "experience" of his fleeting college years—at least, according to Lilia, who never misses an opportunity to remind him whenever he so much as grumbles.

No matter. Time is precious, and his break fleeting, so what better way to spend it than on a quiet stroll with his beloved?

“A bride, hmm?”

He can see why you would call him that. The veil draped over him is grand, rivaling those worn by women as they walk down the aisle. His New Year's attire is intricate—layer upon layer of fabric demanding careful handling, each fold exuding elegance befitting of royalty.

Very much like a bride.

Without warning, his arm curls around your back, pulling you into his embrace until you, too, are enveloped beneath the gossamer veil. The afternoon sun filters through the fabric, casting a hazy glow around you both. From this vantage, he can trace every delicate lash resting atop your cheeks with each slow blink, their shadows flickering like whispers against your skin.

Beautiful. Unfairly so.

“Aren’t you a cheeky one,” he murmurs, gloved fingers gliding along your cheek, mapping each feature with reverence. Etching them into memory, so that even a hundred New Year’s from now, this moment will remain as vivid as if it were yesterday.

“If I am the lucky bride,” his lips curve, gaze dark with quiet amusement, “then would it be fair to call you my groom?”