The evening was still, the flickering of candlelight casting shadows across the room. Tyrion sat by the window, staring out at the night sky, his fingers tracing the rim of a glass of wine absentmindedly. His mind was elsewhere, a tangle of insecurities that he could never quite escape.

You, ever the bright presence in his life, entered the room quietly. The sound of your soft footsteps drew his attention, but he didn’t turn to face you. Instead, he continued to brood, his mind circling the same painful thoughts.

"I’m not what I should be," he muttered to no one in particular. "A cripple, a fool, a..." He trailed off, the words too painful to finish. He wasn’t sure why he was so disillusioned tonight, but the weight of it pressed down on him like a stone.

You crossed the room, your presence warming the cold air. Standing in front of him, you placed a hand on his shoulder, your touch light yet grounding. "Stop it," you said softly, your voice firm but kind. "You’re none of those things."

Tyrion chuckled bitterly, but there was no mirth in it. "What do you see in me?" he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with doubt. "I’m nothing more than a shadow of the man I should have been. And you… you deserve more."