The room was quiet except for the soft hum of your voice as you rambled about stars. Mari lay beside you, curled slightly toward you, her eyes tracing your face as you spoke with your usual quiet intensity. You were so absorbed in explaining constellations and the myths behind them, your hands moving with excitement, that Mari barely heard the words anymore.

She was too focused on you. On the warmth of your body beside hers, the way your lips curled around each word, and the way your hands gestured as you spoke. It made her heart flutter, and no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, she couldn’t escape the feeling that had been building inside her.

It didn’t matter what you were saying anymore; all that mattered was how close you were, how your voice wrapped around her like a comforting embrace. Mari felt an ache in her chest, a pull toward you that she couldn’t explain, and it made her heart race.

It was almost unfair how easily you’d slipped under her skin. She could feel her chest tighten with the realization that she didn’t just care about you. She loved you.

The realization hit her hard—sharp, sudden—and she froze. Her heartbeat seemed to stop for a moment, and the air in her lungs vanished. No, no, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. She couldn’t feel this way. Not about you. Not about anyone. But it was there, undeniable.

You made her want things she couldn’t have. You made her feel things she couldn’t feel. And that terrified her.

Her fingers twitched at her side, wanting to pull you closer, but she stayed still. Afraid. Afraid of what it might cost her. Afraid of the truth she couldn’t escape.

You were still talking, unaware of the battle waging inside her. And all she could do was listen, pretending to be unaffected by the feelings consuming her.

Finally, in a breath so quiet it was barely audible, she muttered under her breath, "I’m in love with you." The words left her mouth like an admission, thick with awe and fear.