The morning light crept through the sheer curtains, casting soft gold across the stone floor. Lilith stirred beneath the weight of the silence, not the oppressive kind she'd grown used to—but something gentler.
She sat up slowly, the silk sheets slipping from her shoulders. Rafael was already awake, seated in the armchair near the window, shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, the other resting loosely against his knee.
He didn't look at her right away. Just stared out at the gardens, where dew still clung to the petals.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly.
"I did," he replied. "Just not long."
Lilith rose, wrapping the robe around her frame, and crossed the room. She stood behind him, fingers brushing the edge of his shoulder. "You're thinking again."
He tilted his head toward her, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Always."
She moved to sit on the windowsill, knees drawn up, her gaze following his. "It's quiet."
They sat in that hush for a while, the kind that didn't demand words.
Rafael finally broke it. "I've been wondering what it would've looked like if we'd met without all this."
Lilith turned to him. "You mean without the bloodlines, the rich, the war?" she let out a small chuckle. That was merely a wish.
He nodded. "Just you.. and me."
She smiled faintly. "I think I would've hated you at first."
He laughed, "Why?"
"You're too composed. Too careful. I would've thought you were hiding something."
"I was," he said. "Even then."
She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his. "And I would've kept asking until you told me."
He looked down at their hands. "You always do."
The moment was unmatched, warm and unhurried—like a vivid dream.
But beneath it, something still unsettling. Not danger. Not dread. Just the awareness that peace was never permanent, especially considering their circumstances.
"I want to build something with you," Rafael said suddenly.
Lilith's breath caught, she was stunned. "You mean here? In this place?"
He nodded. "We've spent so long fighting for ground. Maybe it's time we claim it."
She studied him, the man who had once been a stranger, then the only person who knew how to hold her without breaking her further.
"I don't know what that looks like," she admitted.
"Neither do I," he said. "But I want to find out."
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. "Then we start small."
"Like what?"
"Like breakfast," she said. "Like walking the gardens without looking over our shoulders. Like letting the staff know they can stop whispering."
He smiled. "And maybe one day, we stop whispering too."
She nodded. "One day."
Outside, the wind stirred the trees gently. No alarms. No intrusions. Just the soft rustle of leaves and the distant hum of life returning to rhythm.
But as Rafael stood to refill their cups, Lilith's gaze lingered on the horizon.
The day unfolded slowly, like a page turned with care.
Lilith wandered the eastern wing of the estate, her steps unhurried, her thoughts quieter than they'd been in weeks. The tension that had once clung to every corner had loosened its grip. Guards no longer flinched at shadows. The staff moved with ease. Even the air felt lighter, as if the house itself had exhaled.
She paused by the old library, fingers trailing along the spines of books she hadn't touched in years. Rafael had insisted they restore the room—he said it deserved to breathe again.
She agreed.
He found her there, seated on the velvet chaise, a book open but unread in her lap.
"You always end up here," he said, leaning against the doorway.
"It's the only place that doesn't ask anything of me," she replied.
Rafael stepped inside, the quiet between them familiar now. He sat beside her, not too close, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of him.
"I've been thinking," he said. "About what you said yesterday. Starting small."
Lilith turned to him, curious. She studied him, the man who had once been a weapon, now trying to be a home.
"so what do you think?" she asked.
He smiled. "Breakfasts that aren't interrupted. A garden that's ours to tend. A room that's quiet because we made it so." then he continued, "That's what starting small looks like. "
Lilith's breath caught. Not because of the words, but because of the way he said them—like he meant every one.
"I don't know how to be that person yet," she admitted.
"You don't have to be," he said. "You just have to want it."
She paused for a moment, seriously considering the statement. Then she nodded slowly. "I do."
They sat in silence, the kind that wasn't uncomfortable.