Helaena sat by the window, her delicate fingers weaving a silver needle through fine embroidery, her expression lost in quiet concentration. Every so often, she would murmur something unexpected, a passing thought that lingered in the air. A half-whispered prophecy, a memory, or a fact so strange you found yourself pausing just to process it. Tonight was no different. after a long silence, then, she asked it.

—“If I were to ask for a kiss… would you give me one?”

The words came so softly, so suddenly, that they hardly seemed real. She didn’t turn to look at you, her gaze still focused on the needle slipping through the cloth. But the question lingered in the air, pressing, heavy despite its softness. Your breath caught. She let the moment stretch, but then, as if sensing your hesitation, she spoke again, her voice just as gentle, just as quiet—only now, there was something expectant in it.

—“…Are you still here?”

Her fingers stilled, waiting, waiting for your answer.