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As the aromas fill the kitchen, a sense of calm washes over me. Tonight isn't just another meal; it's a step towards understanding each other better—towards building something real amidst all the uncertainty that surrounds us.
Finally satisfied with my preparations, I set the table in one of the more intimate dining rooms—candles flickering softly against the polished wood—and wait for Valen to join me.
Tonight isn't just about impressing him; it's about sharing a piece of myself in a way that words alone could never convey. And as nervous as I am about how he'll react, there's also an undeniable excitement bubbling within me—a hope that this simple gesture will bring us even closer together in ways neither of us could have imagined when we first met.
When Valen steps into the room, his eyes meet mine across the candlelit table, and for once there are no mysteries—just two people trying to find their way through this complex dance we call love.
Valen steps into the dining room, a small wrapped package in his hand. The flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over his golden skin and the determined set of his jaw. I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest as he strides towards me, his presence filling the room.
"What's that?" I ask, nodding towards the package.
He smiles, a rare, genuine smile that makes my heart skip a beat. "Open it," he says, handing it to me as he moves to pour wine into our glasses.
I carefully peel back the wrapping paper, revealing a simple wooden box. Inside, nestled in soft fabric, is a wooden hair clip shaped like a delicate flower. Its craftsmanship is exquisite yet understated.
"I noticed you always have your hair in your face when you work," he says, handing me a glass of wine. "I thought this might help."
I run my fingers over the smooth wood, marveling at its simplicity. It's not gaudy or extravagant—it's perfect. He understands me in ways I hadn't realized.
"It's beautiful," I say softly, meeting his eyes. "Thank you."
He nods, satisfaction evident in his eyes as he takes a seat across from me. "Shall we?"
Dinner is a harmonious blend of flavors and conversation. We discuss mundane things at first—the weather on Armstrong, the state of the market—but gradually our talk shifts to deeper subjects.
"Valen," I begin hesitantly, setting down my fork. "Why did you really bring me here? To your estate?"
He leans back, swirling the wine in his glass thoughtfully. "Initially? Curiosity," he admits. "You were different from everyone else—genuine."
"And now?" I press gently.
His gaze meets mine, intense and unwavering. "Now? I'm committed to this... to us." He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his. "I want to protect you, but more than that—I want to build something real with you."
A warmth spreads through me at his words. The walls I've built around my heart start to crumble.
"I feel the same way," I confess.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment before I speak again. "You know, when I first met you... I thought you were just another rich man hiding behind walls of wealth and mystery."
He chuckles softly. "And now?"
"Now?" I smile, squeezing his hand. "Now I see you're much more than that."
We finish our meal, sharing stories and dreams under the soft candlelight. The connection between us feels stronger than ever—built on trust and mutual respect.
As we clear the table together, Valen brushes a strand of hair from my face and secures it with the wooden clip. His touch is gentle yet firm—a silent promise of his commitment.
"I'm glad you're here," he murmurs, leaning closer until our foreheads touch.
"Me too," I whisper back, feeling a sense of peace settle over me.
Valen steps closer, his green eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. Without a word, he cups my face gently, his touch warm and steady. His lips brush against mine in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens, filled with a passion that leaves me dizzy.
When he pulls back, there's a spark in his eyes that wasn't there before. "Dinner was marvelous," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with admiration. "I could taste the love you poured into it."
I smile, feeling my cheeks flush with warmth. "Thank you," I whisper, "for everything."
He steps back slightly, giving me space but keeping his hand on mine. "You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s the least I could do."
