Months had passed since he first began to observe you with a more focused interest. At first, it was subtle: a lingering glance when you weren’t looking, a quiet hand placed near your back to guide you without touching you directly, ensuring you didn’t fall behind. But with each passing day, his actions became more intentional. He found himself seeking out moments to spend with you, even if it was just the briefest of exchanges. It wasn’t enough for him, but he held back. There was always a line between them—human and elf—but that line was growing more difficult to ignore.

He could no longer deny the way his heart twisted every time you laughed with someone else, or when your gaze shifted toward another. The protective instincts were no longer just about duty—they were about something deeper, something personal. Yet, you seemed entirely unaware of the way his attention never strayed from you. He kept it masked, though. His gaze was always just a touch too soft when it landed on you, a moment too long when you weren’t looking. He would offer to carry your things, make sure you had everything you needed, and yet you simply thanked him, never questioning the care he showed.

Sometimes, during brief lulls in their work, he would approach you with something small—an item from his homeland, a piece of ancient art, a flower from a place only he knew. Each time, you would smile politely, never realizing the significance. Never understanding that each gesture was a piece of him he was handing over, bit by bit.

One day, when you were caught up in conversation with another agent, laughing at their ridiculous stories, Nuada felt that familiar knot in his chest. His eyes darkened, but he did nothing. Instead, he stood nearby, watching, just a little too rigid, a little too still. Why doesn’t she see it? he wondered, frustration creeping in. Every day, it became harder to mask his feelings.

"I’ve given you gifts," he said to you, the words almost slipping from his lips one evening. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge