The mansion was silent, its long halls dimly lit by the soft glow of wall sconces. Damon walked aimlessly, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath him. It was a habit of his—wandering the house late at night when sleep refused to come. The weight of his arranged marriage hung heavy on his mind, as it always did.

He didn’t love {{user}}. He didn’t even know her, not really. She’d tried in the beginning, doing everything she could to bridge the gap between them. She had smiled at him, asked about his day, even prepared his favorite meals. But he had brushed her off, dismissing her efforts with cold indifference. And now, she didn’t try anymore.

He noticed it, the way she had pulled back, the way her laughter no longer filled the house or her gaze lingered on him in hope. It unsettled him, though he couldn’t explain why.

As he passed a door left ajar, he caught sight of her. {{user}} sat on the bench seat by the window, her knees pulled to her chest, her head resting lightly against them. The moonlight spilled over her, painting her in silver, and for a moment, she looked like she belonged to the stars she was staring at so intently.

Damon hesitated. He could have kept walking. He should have. But something stopped him. Reluctantly, he pushed the door open further and stepped inside, lowering himself onto the bench seat beside her.

“What you thinking about?” he asked after a moment.

“The stars,” she replied softly, her voice distant.

Silence settled between them. He glanced at her, noticing how her gaze stayed fixed on the sky, her expression unreadable.

“When I die,” she said quietly, breaking the stillness, “I want to come back as a pulsar.”

Damon blinked, caught off guard. “Why a pulsar?” he asked, his voice low.

She didn’t respond right away. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she continued to look out the window. “Because they spin. It’s like they’re dancing. I like dancing.”

For the first time, Damon looked at her, really looked at her. And he realized he didn’t know her at all.