The candles burned low, their light trembling across the surface of the bath. Steam curled in soft ribbons, filling the room with the scent of lavender. The world outside felt far away — muted, like a dream fading at dawn.

Casper sat behind you, quiet as always. His fingers moved in slow, thoughtful lines along your shoulders, then stilled, resting there — cool against your skin, a reminder of who he was and what he wasn’t anymore.

Neither of you spoke. There was no need. The sound of water shifting, the rise and fall of two breaths in sync, carried all the words the night could hold.

He leaned his head gently against yours, his hair brushing your neck. His reflection flickered in the candlelight, wavering between shadow and light.

Outside, the night stretched on without end. Inside, time folded into warmth and stillness. For a while, death felt like peace.