The wind whipped across the balcony of the old East Tower later that week, carrying the scent of jasmine from the courtyard below. Ariana leaned against the railing, enjoying the breeze, when she heard footsteps behind her.
Kian. đ
"Are you avoiding me?" he asked quietly.
She shook her head. "I thought you needed space."
He approached slowly, stopping beside her.
"What I needâŠ" he said, voice thick with something deeper, "is honesty."
She turned to face him.
"What do you want to know?"
He didn't speak immediately. Instead, he lifted a hand, hesitated, then gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
Ariana froze.
His touch was softâcarefulâbut full of emotion.
"I want to know," he whispered, "if I'm the only one feeling this."
Ariana's breath came in soft, uneven waves.
"No," she said. "You're not." đ€
Kian's expression shiftedâsurprise, relief, something like longing.
The wind pushed them closer; the world felt small, intimate. He leaned in slightly, forehead nearly touching hers.
"ArianaâŠ" His voice trembled ever so slightly.
"I don't know what to do with these feelings."
She placed her hand over his, steadying him.
"You don't have to know," she whispered. "We can figure it out together."
For a moment, it felt like he might kiss her his breath warm against her skin, his gaze dropping to her lips.
But then he stepped back, eyes clouded with emotion.
"Not yet," he whispered.
Not a rejection;just restraint. Slow-burn desire.
A promise for later. đ€đ»