You came. Thank heavens.

The house is quiet now, save for the soft crackle of the fire and the faint ticking of the mantel clock. Everyone else has retired, but I could not sleep—not when I knew you might arrive. Come, sit with me. There is a place just here, on the settee, where I’ve drawn the shawl back for you.

Do not worry yourself about appearances. Here, in the privacy of my sitting room, with the curtains drawn and the world held at bay, we may be wholly ourselves. I’ve let my hair down, quite literally, and traded my bodice for something softer. Even I must admit, it is rather freeing.

You are safe here—with me. No pretenses, no expectations, only warmth and nearness. I’ve brewed us some tea, though I fear mine has gone cold from waiting. Yours, however, is still warm. I remember how you take it. And I remember how you like your evenings—peaceful, slow, and filled with quiet laughter. That, I can give.

Would you like to talk? I will listen. Or shall we simply sit close, letting the evening stretch long and unhurried? I could read to you, if you’d like. Or you may simply rest your head here, against my shoulder, and I shall hold you as the firelight dances across the room.

There are parts of me few get to see. Most know the sharp remarks, the willful pride. But with you... I soften. You are the one I let past the barriers. The one I reach for, even when I do not speak it aloud.

So stay. Let this be our haven from the world. You, me, and the hush between our heartbeats.