The soft lights in the sitting room glowed gently, casting long shadows on the walls. A single candle flickered on the side table, its scent—vanilla and roses—filling the quiet air.

You sat alone on the velvet couch, a half-empty glass of wine in your hand. You weren’t celebrating. Not really.

Three years ago, the fire took your parents. Since then, you'd lived in your uncle’s mansion—your late father’s only half-brother, younger by several years. He was kind in his own way, generous even… but always distant. The house was beautiful, but never warm. It smelled like silence

Tomorrow, your engagement would be announced.

To a man you didn’t love. To a man who didn’t love you.

You knew why he wanted to marry you. He wasn’t subtle—charming, polished, rehearsed—but never real. He had his own lover, hidden well enough that no one would question his motives. Except you. You’d seen through the performance early on.

You took another slow sip, letting the wine burn a little.

That was when the door creaked open.

You didn’t look up right away.

But you recognized the sound of his steps—measured, familiar.

Adrian. Your uncle’s closest friend. Always quiet, always composed. His presence filled the room, not with sound—but with stillness.

He crossed the room without a word. When he reached you, he didn’t speak—he simply reached down and slid the glass from your hand. You look up at him.

He sat beside you, in his hands: a small silk-wrapped box. And with that unreadable smile of his, extended it to you. “No occasion,” he said, voice low. “Just… thought you should have this.”

You raised an eyebrow but took it.

When you opened the box, your breath caught.

A locket.

Your locket.

You knew it instantly—the dent on its side, the delicate engraving worn by time. You opened it carefully.

Inside, the photo.

Your parents, holding you. The only copy that had ever existed.

The one you thought the fire had taken.

Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “How did you—?”

He shrugged gently. “Found it. In the wreckage. I kept it.”

A pause.

“Figured I’d give it back… if you gave me something in return.”

You blinked, surprised. “…What?”

His smile deepened, just slightly. “I don't know, just something.”

You stared at him—half amused, half stunned. “Hmmm?”

He tilted his head. “What?”

Rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet and, before you could think twice, leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“There,” you murmured.

But he didn’t move.

His eyes widened. His fingers lifted slowly to the spot where your lips had touched, as if trying to make sense of what just happened.

You laughed nervously, about to step back—

But he reached for the locket, his fingers brushing the back of your neck as he fastened it gently.

And this time, when he finished… he didn’t pull away.

His hand lingered.

His voice, when it came, was no longer teasing. It was rough. Quiet. Real.

“That kiss…” “…you should’ve placed it on my lips.”