(Adrian's POV)
The moon hung low in the sky, a silver sentinel against the inky black of night. The woods were eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves under a wandering animal or the soft sigh of the wind through the ancient trees. I walked cautiously along the familiar path, each step heavy with anticipation. My heart thumped in my chest, erratic, wild. I had sent the letter hours ago, instructing Damien to meet me at our tree, the tree where we had shared our secrets, our laughter, and moments that felt like stolen fragments of time.
Now, standing beneath the skeletal branches of the old oak, I waited. My hands were clenched into fists, and my pulse was frantic.
Time stretched unbearably, the minutes crawling like spiders across the forest floor. I tried to tell myself that he would come, that Damien would arrive as always, but doubt had begun its insidious work.
What if he didn't?
