The walls of the house felt closer each day, as if they were conspiring to keep Ana in a gilded prison. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of jasmine from the garden, yet she could not breathe freely. Her family's care surrounded her—gentle voices, protective glances—but each locked window and guarded door reminded her that this safety came at the cost of her freedom.
Kaspy's presence was the only thing that softened the edges of her confinement. His eyes seemed to hold her together when her spirit wavered, a silent promise that she was not alone in this maze of caution and shadows. The way his gaze lingered on her—intense, almost reverent—made her pulse quicken. She didn't know if it was dangerous or beautiful to want him this much.
That night, exhaustion claimed her, and she surrendered to sleep. The dream came swiftly, vivid as reality.
She was outside, in the open night, the moon spilling silver light across the world. Kaspy was there, his hand reaching for hers. He pulled her close, his arms strong around her waist, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered her name like it was sacred. She felt the world fall away, leaving only the two of them—his heartbeat under her cheek, the steady rhythm anchoring her in a place where fear could not reach.
He kissed her. It was slow at first, then desperate, as though he'd waited a lifetime for it. Her fingers tangled in his hair, her chest aching with the sweetness of the moment. She thought she could stay there forever.
But the dream shifted—moonlight fractured, the warmth vanished, and his embrace dissolved into air.
Ana woke with a sharp gasp, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Her room was dark, silent except for the faint hum of the night beyond her window. The locked door stood as a silent sentinel between her and the world outside.
It had only been a dream.
Her hands trembled as she pressed them to her face, trying to chase the echo of his touch, the phantom taste of his lips. Her chest tightened until she had to pull in shallow breaths, afraid the sound of her sorrow would reach the guards outside her door.
She lay back down, eyes open to the ceiling, knowing that sleep would not come again. She was trapped—between the safety her family demanded and the yearning that burned hotter each day for a man she could not have without risking everything.
And somewhere beyond those locked walls, Kaspy existed, breathing the same night air, perhaps thinking of her.
The thought was a comfort and a torment all at once.