You ran like a damn fool.

Not because it was urgent. He hadn’t said anything like that in the letter—just a few lines scribbled in that neat, rigid handwriting of his: If you’re free tonight, come to the clearing. I want to show you something.

That was it. No dramatic plea. No heart-pouring nonsense. Just that. But from Hessian? That meant something.

So yeah. You ran.

Your boots slipped on the damp moss and you caught a branch to steady yourself, breath catching in your chest like it didn’t know whether to panic or sing. And there he was, his arms crossed beneath that worn cloak, looking up at the stars.

“You made it,” he said, like he hadn’t doubted you.

“I wanted to show you something.”

He stepped aside, pointing up toward the indigo sky where two stars burned low and bright, almost touching. “See those two? The left’s Irel, the hunter. And the right—soft one, quieter—that’s Caen. His companion. They say Caen followed Irel through a cursed forest, even knowing he’d never make it out. But the gods took pity, so now they cross the sky together.”

Then Hessian’s voice shifted, lower, more grounded. “When you first started… flirting with me,” he said, and gods, he looked so genuinely puzzled even now, “I wasn’t sure what to do. I thought it’d be kinder to ignore it. To make sure it didn’t go anywhere.”

He laughed but it was weak. “That was stupid.”

“Because then I started thinking about you. All the time. Like how you wrinkle your nose when you concentrate.” His hand dipped into his pocket. “And this.”

He pulled out a pin. Carved wood. The soft shape of a flower, petals etched like he tried too hard to pretend he didn’t care.

“I made this the night you gave me that lily. I didn’t want to give it until I was sure.”

He stepped forward, eyes locked to yours now, no longer hiding in the stars.

“I should’ve known from the beginning,” he said, voice quiet but steady, “that it was always yours and…I’m sorry.”