Lucian
Mara was a gentle soul—delicate, yet unbreakable.
I saw it in the way she moved, in the way she carried herself with silent defiance even as the world pulled the ground out from beneath her.
At the reception, she sat quietly beside me, a statue carved from resolve. I didn’t want her to feel alone. I didn’t want people whispering about how cold I was, or worse, how unwanted she was. So I asked her to dance.
She didn’t expect it. I saw the surprise flicker across her face.
She stood anyway.
And when I took her hand in mine, I wasn’t prepared for what I felt.
Her palm—soft, warm, trembling slightly.
The kind of touch that made you want to pull someone in and never let go. That instinct to protect flared inside me, raw and sudden. Not out of obligation. Not because she was my
