Iris woke to sunlight streaming across the sheets. For a moment, she thought it was just another ordinary morning—the hum of traffic below, the faint aroma of brewed coffee. But then she turned, and there was Luna, hair messy, lips slightly swollen from the night before, still asleep with her hand clutching Iris's shirt as though afraid to let go.
Iris brushed a strand of hair from her face and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good morning, trouble," she whispered.
Luna stirred, blinking awake. "Mm. You're staring."
"Always." Iris smiled. "You're beautiful when you're sleeping. Less scary, too."
Luna narrowed her eyes but couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Scary?"
"You nearly crushed me last night with your grip."
A faint blush colored Luna's cheeks. "You didn't complain."
"No," Iris murmured, leaning closer. "I didn't."
Their laughter softened the heaviness lingering from the note. For a few precious minutes, it felt like the world couldn't touch them.
That afternoon, Adrian dropped by, waving two movie tickets like a flag.
"You two need to get out," he announced. "Go on a date. I'm tired of third-wheeling your lovey-dovey stares every time I come over."
Iris groaned. "Adrian—"
"No excuses. I already bought them. It's for tonight. Romantic film, subtitles, air-conditioned cinema. Do it for your relationship. Or for me, since I spent money."
Luna tilted her head. "He's not wrong. Maybe we should go."
Iris blinked. "You actually want to?"
"Why not? We can't keep hiding here forever. Besides…" Luna's silver eyes softened. "I want to see what it's like. To be normal. Just for one night."
Iris's heart clenched. She nodded. "Then it's a date."
That evening, they arrived at the theater. The line was long, couples chattering excitedly, the smell of buttered popcorn filling the air.
Iris bought snacks while Luna observed the crowd, shoulders tense until Iris returned and threaded their fingers together.
Inside the dark cinema, Luna leaned close, whispering, "It feels strange. Sitting here with so many strangers."
"That's the point. No one's watching us. We're just two girls on a date." Iris squeezed her hand. "Like everyone else."
The film began—a romance about two souls finding each other across lifetimes. Halfway through, Iris noticed Luna's eyes glistening.
"You okay?" Iris whispered.
Luna nodded quickly, but her voice cracked. "It just… feels familiar."
Iris didn't press. Instead, she offered her shoulder, and Luna rested her head there, tears slipping silently as the story unfolded.
By the time the credits rolled, Luna's hand was clutching hers tightly, as though afraid of letting go.
They exited the theater late, the city buzzing with neon lights. Iris was about to suggest grabbing street food when she noticed it—
A man, tall, wearing a cap low over his face, walking several steps behind them.
Her instincts prickled. She slowed her pace, pretending to fix her bag. The man slowed too.
"Luna," Iris murmured. "Don't look. But I think someone's following us."
Luna stiffened. "Where?"
"Behind us. Black jacket, cap."
Her grip on Iris's hand tightened painfully. "It's them."
Iris swallowed hard. "Okay. We're not panicking. We'll blend into the crowd."
They turned into a busier street, weaving through people. But every time Iris glanced back, the man was there.
Finally, Luna hissed, "This way," pulling her into a narrow alley.
"Luna—"
"Trust me."
They slipped through side streets Iris had never noticed, Luna guiding with surprising certainty. At last, after several sharp turns, they emerged blocks away. The man was gone.
But Luna didn't relax. Her chest heaved, eyes scanning every shadow.
"Iris…" she whispered. "They've found me for sure this time."
Back at the apartment, silence pressed heavy between them. Luna paced the balcony, while Iris sat on the edge of the bed, clutching her sketchbook like a lifeline.
Finally, Iris broke. "You need to tell me everything. No more half-truths. Who are these people? Why are they after you?"
Luna's shoulders slumped. She turned, face pale in the moonlight.
"My father… was part of a powerful family. Wealth, influence, everything you can imagine. But with that came enemies. Old rivalries. When he died, the vultures circled. My mother fled with me, tried to keep me hidden. But they always looked for us. For me."
Iris frowned. "Why you?"
"Because I'm the last of my father's bloodline. To them, I'm a bargaining chip. A symbol. Or a target."
Her voice broke. "I thought leaving Europe would make me invisible. But they never stop."
Iris stood, crossing to her. "Luna… You don't have to face this alone anymore."
Luna shook her head. "I'm putting you in danger just by staying here."
"Then let me be in danger. Because I'd rather fight with you than live safe without you."
Tears welled in Luna's eyes. "You'll regret saying that."
"Never." Iris cupped her face, kissed her softly. "I'm in this with you. Until the stars stop whispering."
The next morning, they tried to resume normalcy. Luna cooked breakfast—burned eggs that made them both laugh until they cried. Iris painted while Luna read aloud from a poetry book she found in Iris's stack.
Yet the shadow lingered. Every knock at the door, every creak in the hallway made Luna flinch.
That night, Iris held her close as they lay in bed. "We'll figure this out," she whispered into Luna's hair. "We'll run if we have to. We'll fight if we must. But we won't break. Do you hear me?"
Luna buried her face against her chest. "You make it sound easy."
"Not easy," Iris murmured. "Just worth it."
For the first time in days, Luna fell asleep without trembling.
Sleep didn't come easily to Iris. Even after Luna drifted off, exhaustion softening the lines of her face, Iris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The man in the alley haunted her thoughts—the cap pulled low, the way he moved with patience, like a predator that wasn't in a rush.
Careful not to wake Luna, she slipped out of bed and stepped onto the balcony. The night air was cool, the city below still buzzing faintly with traffic. Above, the stars gleamed—scattered and alive, as if whispering their secrets only she could hear.
She pulled her sketchbook onto her lap and began to draw. The lines flowed easily—Luna's silhouette, hair spilling like ink across the page, her gaze fixed upward. Around her, Iris sketched constellations, weaving them into the folds of her hair, as though Luna herself was born of the night sky.
"You're awake," a sleepy voice murmured.
Iris startled. Luna stood in the doorway, wrapped in the bedsheet like a makeshift gown, eyes half-lidded but shining.
"Couldn't sleep," Iris admitted. "I was… thinking too much."
Luna crossed the balcony, sitting beside her. She glanced at the sketch, then at Iris. "You always see me like this. Like I belong to the stars."
"Maybe you do." Iris's voice softened. "Sometimes, when I paint you, I feel like I'm remembering instead of imagining. Like I've seen you in another life."
Luna's breath hitched. "That's exactly how it feels for me too. Meeting you wasn't chance. It was… recognition."
The air between them thickened with unspoken truths. Slowly, Luna reached out, tracing the charcoal smudge on Iris's cheek. "Do you know how dangerous it is for me to need someone like this?"
Iris caught her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm. "Do you know how impossible it is for me to stop?"
Luna leaned in. Their lips met—slow, tender, tasting of midnight air and fear they refused to surrender to. The kiss deepened, Iris's hands sliding into Luna's hair as Luna pulled her closer, until the sketchbook slipped forgotten to the floor.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Luna rested her forehead against Iris's. "Promise me, no matter what happens, you won't let go."
"I promise," Iris whispered, sealing it with another kiss.
They lay together on the balcony floor, tangled in the sheets, the city muted around them. Above, the stars burned brighter, impossibly so—as though leaning closer to listen.
"Look," Luna said softly, pointing upward. "That constellation—Orion. My mother used to tell me it was a hunter who protected the ones he loved. She said if I was ever afraid, I should look for him."
"And do you?" Iris asked.
Luna hesitated, then shook her head. "Not until tonight. Not until you."
Silence stretched. Then, faintly, as though carried by wind, Iris thought she heard something—a hum, a whisper that vibrated in her chest rather than her ears. She stiffened.
"Did you… hear that?"
Luna tilted her head. "Hear what?"
"The stars. They're—" Iris faltered, afraid she sounded insane. "They're whispering again."
Luna studied her, silver eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, she reached out and squeezed her hand. "Then maybe they're telling us we're not alone."
Iris let out a shaky laugh. "You always know how to make me believe."
The next day dawned with soft sunlight spilling over them. Luna woke first, brushing kisses along Iris's shoulder until she stirred, groggy but smiling.
"Good morning," Luna whispered.
"Mm. Best morning," Iris murmured, pulling her closer.
They lingered longer than usual, clinging to the fragile peace. Over breakfast—toast charred again, eggs slightly overcooked—Iris teased, "You know, for someone mysterious and dangerous, you're terrible at cooking."
Luna threw a napkin at her, laughing, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt ordinary.
But when Iris glanced at the balcony railing, her heart stopped.
Another note was pinned there, fluttering in the breeze.
This one was shorter. Crisper.
"Run faster. We're closer than you think."
Iris's blood turned to ice.
Luna froze, reading over her shoulder. Her smile vanished.
And just like that, the fragile bubble of sunlight and sweetness shattered.