Years ago, you used to be in love. You still were, honestly. Jon. His name was Jon. You could still remember his curly black hair, the sound of his voice characterized by his typical thick northern accent. The taste of his lips, the way he used to look at you. How much he loved yours, your eyes. And this. "My little wolf". How he would call you.

But it was over now. It has been years since you didn’t see each other. You were stuck at Winterfell while he was somewhere.

Your eyes were roaming over the different books as you were spending your time in the library. And a book caught your eye. It had your name. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up. Your thumb brushed over the cover and the golden letters. No author name was written. You opened it, going through a few pages. And then you got to the last one.

You paused, reading the last words written.

’To my little wolf. I still remember your beautiful eyes after all these years.’

And your heart stopped.