The world held its breath in the hour before dawn. Saanvi sat beneath the flowering tree in the inn's courtyard, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the worn stone table. The air was cool against her skin, carrying the faint sweetness of night-blooming jasmine and the promise of morning dew. She'd given up on sleep hours ago, her mind too restless, too full of questions that had no answers.
The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel made her look up. Vihaan emerged from the shadows cast by the inn's overhanging eaves, moving with that careful grace that seemed so natural to him. But there was something different about him in the pre-dawn light—the sharp edges of his usual guardedness had softened, and when he looked at her, she saw something vulnerable flicker in his dark eyes.
"You're awake early," he said, his voice carrying the quiet roughness of someone who'd been thinking too much.
Saanvi's lips curved in a tired smile. "Or maybe I never slept." She gestured to the empty space across from her. "The silence seemed like better company than my thoughts."
Vihaan settled into the seat across from her, and she noticed the way he moved—carefully, as if he was afraid of disturbing something fragile. A gentle breeze stirred the branches above them, sending a cascade of pale petals drifting down to settle on the table between them like scattered promises.
"Does the silence bother you?" he asked, and there was something in his voice that made her look at him more closely.
"No," she said slowly, watching his face in the dim light. "Sometimes silence is kinder than truth."
The words hung between them, heavy with meaning neither of them was quite ready to examine. Vihaan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and she caught the way his hands clasped together on the table, knuckles white with tension.
"You're carrying too much, Saanvi," he said finally, his voice so gentle it made her chest ache. "I can see it in the way you hold yourself, the way you watch all of us like you're afraid we'll disappear."
She looked at him sharply, startled by the accuracy of his observation. How had he seen so clearly what she'd been trying to hide? But then his expression softened, and she saw something there that made her breath catch—a familiarity that shouldn't have existed, a tenderness that felt like coming home.
"Sometimes," she whispered, looking down at her hands, "I feel like I've forgotten something important. Someone important." The words came out broken, uncertain. "Like there's a piece of my heart that's been missing for so long I've forgotten what it feels like to be whole."
Vihaan's jaw clenched, and she caught the way his breathing changed, became more careful, more controlled. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Maybe... that someone hasn't forgotten you."
The words hit her like a physical blow. Her breath caught, and she looked up to find him watching her with an expression so intense it made her feel transparent, like he could see straight through to the parts of herself she kept hidden.
"Vihaan," she started, but he was already standing, extending his hand with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Come," he said, and there was something almost desperate in his voice. "Walk with me. The dawn is almost here."
She hesitated, studying his face. There were questions burning in her throat, but something about the way he was looking at her—like he was memorizing her face—made her place her hand in his instead.
His fingers were warm, callused from years of training, and when they closed around hers, she felt a shock of recognition that made no sense. They walked in comfortable silence through the narrow pathways behind the inn, past herb gardens and sleeping chickens, their footsteps muffled by the dew-damp earth.
The air between them seemed to hum with unspoken words, with the weight of things neither of them knew how to say. She found herself stealing glances at his profile, at the way the approaching dawn caught the sharp line of his cheekbone, the slight furrow between his brows that spoke of thoughts too heavy to carry alone.
"Tell me about your dreams," she said suddenly, surprising herself with the question.
Vihaan's step faltered slightly. "My dreams?"
"The ones that wake you up in the middle of the night," she said softly. "The ones that make you pace the halls until dawn. I've heard you, you know. Moving restlessly, like you're trying to outrun something."
He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Then, so quietly she almost missed it, he said, "I dream about losing things. People. About being too late to save what matters most."
The pain in his voice made her stop walking. "Vihaan—"
"I dream about a garden," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "About someone who used to laugh at my terrible jokes and patch up my wounds when I was too stubborn to admit I was hurt. Someone who saw good in me when I couldn't see it in myself."
Saanvi's heart was racing now, because there was something in his voice, something in the way he was looking at her, that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice.
"What happened to them?" she whispered.
"They forgot," he said simply, but she heard the grief underlying the words. "They forgot, and I... I let them forget. Because I thought it was safer. Because I thought it was what they needed."
Before she could respond, her foot caught on a loose stone, and she stumbled. Vihaan's arms were around her instantly, steadying her, pulling her close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of their robes.
"Careful," he murmured, his voice rough. "I'm not always this close to catch you."
The words slipped out before she could stop them: "Then maybe you should be."
They froze, both of them, the weight of what she'd said hanging in the air between them. Vihaan's hands were still on her arms, and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart where their bodies almost touched. When she looked up at him, his eyes were dark with something that made her feel like she was drowning.
"Saanvi," he said, and her name on his lips sounded like a prayer, like a confession. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Don't I?" she whispered, stepping closer, close enough that she could count his eyelashes, close enough that she could see the way his pupils dilated when she moved. "Because right now, it feels like I'm the only one who's been blind."
His hands came up to frame her face, thumbs brushing across her cheekbones with a tenderness that made her eyes flutter closed. "If I tell you," he said, his voice breaking, "if I tell you the truth, it will change everything. And I can't... I can't bear the thought of losing you again."
"Again?" The word came out as barely a breath.
But before he could answer, the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and rose. The light fell across his face, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his expression—a recognition, a longing so profound it made her chest ache.
"We should go back," he said finally, his hands dropping away from her face. "The others will wake soon."
She nodded, but neither of them moved, both caught in the spell of the moment, of the words that had been spoken and the ones that remained unspoken.
"Vihaan," she said softly, and he looked at her with such hope and fear in his eyes that it broke her heart. "Whatever you're afraid to tell me... I'm ready to hear it."
He smiled then, sad and beautiful and full of a love so deep it took her breath away. "I know," he said. "But not yet. Not until you remember on your own."
---
## Morning Revelations
As Vihaan and Saanvi walked back toward the inn, the golden light of dawn painted everything in warm hues. The world was waking up around them—birds beginning their morning songs, the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant sound of the innkeeper stoking the fire for breakfast.
They moved closer together than they had before, their hands brushing occasionally as they walked. Each touch sent sparks through Saanvi's skin, and she found herself hyper-aware of everything about him—the way he matched his stride to hers, the protective way he positioned himself between her and the uneven path, the careful way he watched her from the corner of his eye.
Just as they approached the doorway, it creaked open with a long, dramatic groan.
Devran appeared first, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn that seemed to go on forever. His hair was tousled from sleep, and he was wearing his robe loosely tied, revealing a strip of chest that made Saanvi avert her eyes with a small smile. But his expression sharpened when he noticed them, taking in their proximity, the way they were looking at each other, the faint flush on Saanvi's cheeks.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Well, well," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with the casual grace of a cat who'd caught a particularly interesting mouse. "Look who's returning from a morning adventure. Should we start planning a wedding feast, or will simple breakfast suffice?"
Tianlan emerged behind him, still rubbing sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and there was a crease on his cheek from his pillow. But his eyes were sharp as they took in the scene, and his lips curved in a knowing smile.
"Wait," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. "Did you two seriously go for a romantic stroll at sunrise? That's..." He paused, pretending to consider it seriously. "Suspiciously peaceful for someone who usually communicates in grunts and glares."
Xie Lian appeared next, already neat and composed despite the early hour, nibbling delicately on a sweet bun. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked between them. "And here I thought Vihaan spent his mornings meditating or sharpening swords. Turns out he was wooing Saanvi under the morning stars."
Saanvi's cheeks blazed red, and she pressed her hands to her face. "It wasn't like that!" she protested, but her voice came out higher than usual. "I just couldn't sleep, and Vihaan—he was just being... considerate."
Devran gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "The cold and mighty Vihaan being considerate? Alert the kingdom's scribes—this is newsworthy. Who are you and what have you done with our brooding bodyguard?"
Tianlan's grin widened. "Next thing we know, he'll be writing poetry. 'Roses are red, violets are blue, Saanvi's beautiful, and I'm probably doomed.'"
Xie Lian laughed, a sound like silver bells. "Maybe he already has. 'To Saanvi, under the blush of dawn, my heart awakens like the breaking morn...'"
"Oh god," Saanvi groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "Why do I even travel with you people? You're all terrible."
Vihaan, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, stepped closer to her. "They're just bored," he said softly, his voice carrying easily to her ears but somehow intimate despite the audience. "Let them have their fun. They'll find something else to fixate on soon enough."
The way he said it, protective and gentle, made her look up at him through her fingers. There was something in his expression—a warmth, a tenderness—that made her heart skip beats.
Devran caught the look that passed between them and whistled low. "Oh, this is even better than I thought. Our stone-faced warrior has been completely undone by our lovely healer."
"I can hear you," Vihaan said mildly, but there was no real annoyance in his voice.
"That's the point," Tianlan said cheerfully. "We're providing commentary. It's a public service."
As the teasing continued, Vihaan leaned slightly toward Saanvi, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of sandalwood that always seemed to cling to him. "Ignore them," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "They mean well, even if they have the subtlety of a herd of elephants."
She glanced at him, heart racing at his proximity, at the way his voice dropped to that intimate register that seemed reserved just for her. "Is that your professional opinion, bodyguard?"
"It's my personal opinion," he said, and the distinction felt important, heavy with meaning. "As someone who cares about your comfort."
The words hung between them, loaded with subtext that made her pulse quicken. She was acutely aware of how close he was standing, of the way his eyes seemed to hold entire conversations they weren't having out loud.
"Come on, lovebirds," Devran called, interrupting the moment. "Breakfast is getting cold, and we have a long day ahead of us."
But as they stepped inside together, Saanvi couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between them. The careful distance Vihaan usually maintained had cracked, and through those cracks, she'd glimpsed something that made her breath catch—a depth of feeling that spoke of history, of secrets, of a love that had been waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal itself.
---
## Morning Chaos
Inside the cozy dining area of the inn, the group settled around a low table laden with the inn's simple but delicious breakfast. Freshly baked flatbreads still warm from the oven, rice porridge fragrant with cardamom and cinnamon, pickled vegetables, and honey cakes that made their mouths water. The room filled with the comfortable sounds of morning—the clink of cups, the rustle of fabric, the soft murmur of conversation.
Saanvi was still pink from the earlier teasing, shooting glares at Devran whenever he opened his mouth to make another comment. Devran, for his part, was enjoying himself immensely, dramatically fanning himself with a piece of flatbread like a gossiping aunt who'd just heard the most delicious scandal.
Tianlan had appointed himself tea server, moving around the table with careful precision, but his eyes kept drifting to Devran's theatrics with barely concealed amusement. Xie Lian was attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity, but his lips kept twitching with suppressed laughter.
Suddenly, the door to the hallway creaked open with a groan that seemed to echo through the entire inn.
Wei Zhan stumbled out, looking like he'd been trampled by a herd of wild horses. His usually pristine hair was a complete disaster, sticking up in every direction like he'd been struck by lightning. His robe was not only wrinkled but also—and this was the truly spectacular part—completely inside out, the rough inner seams visible to everyone. He blinked at the group with the slow, confused expression of someone who wasn't entirely sure where he was or how he'd gotten there.
The entire table fell silent, spoons halfway to mouths, tea cups suspended in midair.
Wei Zhan looked around at their faces, then down at the food, then back at their faces. "Did I..." he said slowly, his voice rough with sleep, "miss something?"
Xie Lian choked on his tea, coughing and sputtering while Devran patted his back with exaggerated concern.
"No, no," Devran said, his voice strangled with the effort of holding back laughter. "You're just in time, Your Disheveled Majesty. We were just discussing the finer points of... morning fashion."
Tianlan bit his lip so hard to keep from laughing that he nearly drew blood. "Tell me, Wei Zhan," he said with exaggerated seriousness, "do robes traditionally go on inside-out in your kingdom, or is this a new fashion trend you're pioneering?"
Wei Zhan looked down at himself, taking in the full extent of the disaster. His eyes widened in horror. "Oh, for the love of—seriously?! How did I—when did I—?" He tugged at the fabric, trying to determine how exactly he'd managed to put his robe on completely wrong.
Saanvi, despite her earlier embarrassment, couldn't help but smile. "Here," she said, standing up and moving toward him. "At least let me fix your collar. You look like you wrestled with a pillow and lost spectacularly."
Wei Zhan submitted to her ministrations with the resigned air of someone who'd given up on dignity entirely. "I feel like I wrestled with a pillow and lost," he muttered.
Vihaan, who had been sipping his tea with his usual unflappable calm, looked up from his cup. "You probably did. Your snoring could wake the dead."
"I don't snore," Wei Zhan protested weakly.
"You do," Xie Lian said, still recovering from his coughing fit. "It sounds like a dragon with a head cold."
Wei Zhan flopped down beside Xie Lian with all the grace of a sack of flour, burying his head in his arms on the table. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into his sleeves. "You're all terrible people and I'm going to find new friends."
"Aww," Devran cooed, reaching over to pat Wei Zhan's disheveled head. "Don't say that, Prince Moonbeam. You just provided the perfect finale to our morning's entertainment. First we had the dawn romance, now we have the comedy of errors."
Xie Lian's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We should commission a painting of this moment. 'The Great Breakfast Disaster of Wei Zhan.'"
"Better yet," Tianlan added, "we should write a ballad. 'The Prince Who Couldn't Dress Himself.'"
Wei Zhan peeked through his arms at Saanvi, who was still standing nearby with barely contained laughter. "Please tell me you're not sketching this in your mind for posterity."
Saanvi raised an eyebrow, her smile turning decidedly wicked. "Too late. I'm already composing the caption: 'Wei Zhan discovers that putting on clothes is more complicated than ruling a kingdom.'"
The table erupted in laughter, the sound warm and genuine and full of the kind of affection that only came from people who'd been through too much together to stand on ceremony. Even Vihaan's usually stoic expression cracked, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
As the laughter died down, Wei Zhan finally lifted his head, his hair somehow even more disheveled than before. "You know what?" he said, grabbing a piece of flatbread and tearing off a chunk. "Fine. Laugh all you want. But when we're all facing down whatever horrible thing is waiting for us at these cliffs, don't come crying to me when you realize you've been mocking the person who's going to save all your lives."
"With what?" Devran asked, still grinning. "Your incredible fashion sense?"
"With my devastating charm and rugged good looks," Wei Zhan said, striking a pose that was somewhat undermined by his inside-out robe and bird's nest hair.
The laughter started up again, and this time Wei Zhan joined in, the sound of it filling the small dining room with warmth and light. Outside, the sun continued its climb into the sky, painting the world in shades of gold and promise.
For a moment, sitting around that table with the people who had become more than friends, more than traveling companions, it was easy to forget about the dangers ahead. Easy to just exist in this pocket of warmth and laughter and the kind of love that came from choosing to stay together even when everything else was falling apart.
But even as they laughed and teased and shared their simple breakfast, each of them carried the weight of what was coming. The road ahead was uncertain, full of trials and dangers they couldn't yet imagine. But whatever came next, they would face it together—disheveled robes, dawn confessions, and all.