He stepped into the moonlight like he belonged to it.
The shadows clung to him for a moment, reluctant to let go, but then the silver glow revealed his face — familiar, and yet completely new.
Ella stared.
It was Kieran Blake.
He'd always been there — in her creative writing seminar, two rows behind, the quiet one with ink-stained fingers and a notebook he never shared. She remembered the way he listened more than he spoke, the intensity in his eyes, like the world around him was just a whisper compared to what he heard inside.
"You," she breathed.
He smiled softly. "Me."
She took a step closer. "Why didn't I see it before?"
"I didn't want to be seen," Kieran said. "Not until I had the words to deserve it."
A thousand questions swirled in her mind, but none made it to her lips. Her body was buzzing — with disbelief, with adrenaline, with… hope.
"You wrote all of that?" she asked. "The letters, the poems, the notes in my notebook…"
He nodded. "Every word. I've been writing to you since October. I just… never thought I'd get the courage to tell you."
Ella let out a shaky laugh, more breath than sound. "And the masquerade?"
"I saw you come in wearing that dress and… I couldn't stay away." His voice dropped. "Dancing with you was the best moment of my life. And the most terrifying."
Her heart thudded. "Because you had to leave?"
"Because I didn't want the magic to end," he said. "You looked at me that night like I was more than just words. I didn't know if I was ready for that."
She swallowed, her voice suddenly fragile. "And now?"
He stepped closer.
"Now, I'm ready for you to look at me. Not the poet. Not the mystery. Just me."
Ella searched his face — for a lie, for hesitation. But there was only honesty. He looked at her like she was the answer to a question he'd spent years trying to ask.
"I read your poems," she whispered. "You know me better than most people ever have."
Kieran's voice was a murmur. "That's because I listened, even when you thought no one was."
The air between them pulsed.
Ella could feel the weight of every moment that had led here — every glance, every letter, every breath she'd read between his lines. It was dizzying, standing before someone who knew the shape of her heart before he'd even held her hand.
"You called me stardust," she said softly. "You said you craved my thunder."
Kieran's eyes met hers, something flickering there — reverence, longing, maybe even love.
"I meant every word."
A silence settled, thick with meaning. Then, like gravity pulling them closer, Ella stepped into his space, heart pounding.
"I think," she said, "I've been waiting for someone like you. Someone who sees all the parts I hide — and doesn't run."
"I'd never run from you," Kieran said. "I'd only run to you."
The rooftop faded. The night blurred. All that existed was the space between them.
And then, slowly, carefully — he reached for her hand.
It was warm. Steady.
She laced her fingers through his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, everything clicked into place.
They stood like that for a while, just holding hands in the moonlight, two people with too many feelings and not enough words.
But they didn't need them.
Not tonight.
"Will you write to me again?" Ella asked quietly.
Kieran smiled. "Only if you promise to write back."
To be continued…