As their tears fell, Vex raised his hand, catching one of Maira's droplets mid-air.
It landed in his palm like a whisper—and the moment it touched his skin, he stilled.
Warm. Familiar.
Not just a tear. Not just grief.
His golden eyes slowly lifted to her face.
Maira blinked, eyes misty, confused by the shift in his gaze. "What…?"
Vex said nothing. He simply looked at her.
No—he took her in.
Her lower lip trembled, a thin line of tears slipping down her cheek. Her eyes were wide, filled with pain, but the skin around them held faint lines—marks left behind by too many sleepless nights and too much pent-up pain.
She wasn't fragile. Her body had strength in it. The kind built from struggle, not comfort.
Her blouse clung to her chest, the fabric slightly stretched by the weight of her breasts—round, full, moving gently with each shaky breath. Her waist narrowed before easing into soft, wide hips, the kind that came with age and quiet suffering.
