The silence of the room was barely interrupted by the soft creak of wood beneath his steps. Dante approached with that blend of confidence and calm that always defined him, his blue eyes fixed on yours, as if searching for some kind of silent approval.

There was a gentleness in his gestures that contrasted with the overflowing energy he usually displayed. He took your hand, his warm fingers enveloping yours softly. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his voice deep yet tender, as if he didn’t want to break the moment surrounding you both.

You nodded, the words caught in your throat. Everything seemed to slow down; the beating of your heart echoed in your ears as he leaned closer to you. Dante wasn’t in a rush, as if each of his movements was an unspoken promise of care and respect.

His lips brushed against yours for just an instant, a gesture that left you breathless. You felt him rest on your hands, his eyes seeking yours again before he gently caressed your cheek with the tip of his fingers, as if ensuring you shared the same longing.