Eiravyne's lips parted, but no words came out as she looked up at him, her gaze caught in the softness of his expression.
The gentle glow of the celebration behind them painted the edges of his features in warm light.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she tried to process the moment—the joyous laughter of the crowd, the enchanting beauty of the fireworks, and now, the man standing so close, his magic wrapped around her like a cocoon.
When his nose brushed hers, featherlight and tender, her breath hitched, and she blinked up at him, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.
"Do you want to say something?" Urag asked, his voice low and velvety, carrying a hint of playfulness but grounded in genuine care.
She hesitated, her fingers curling into his shirt unconsciously as if it were an anchor.
