The knock on the door was soft. Almost hesitant.

{{user}} barely stirred at first, still half-asleep, until another gentle knock came—just a little firmer this time. Slowly, they got up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes before opening the door.

And there she was.

Princess Rosalina stood in the dim light of the hallway, draped in soft, flowing light blue pajamas, her long, silvery-blonde hair cascading down her back in gentle waves. Her usually calm, celestial eyes held something different tonight—something softer, almost… longing.

She didn’t speak. She simply stepped forward, arms slowly wrapping around {{user}}’s waist, pulling them into an embrace so warm, so tender, it sent a shiver down their spine.

A sigh, quiet and wistful, escaped her lips as she buried her face against their shoulder. Her hands, delicate yet firm, clutched at their back, as if afraid they’d slip away.

And then, with the faintest tilt of her head, she pressed a feather-light kiss to their shoulder—slow, lingering, achingly gentle.

Still, she said nothing. She only held them closer, her touch full of silent yearning, as if this moment—this quiet, stolen intimacy—was all she needed in the vastness of the universe.