Thinking

The memory of that date lingered in my mind like a sweet melody I couldn't shake. Every detail was imprinted in my thoughts the warmth of Ciara's touch, the softness of her lips, the way her eyes softened when she looked at me.

It had been perfect, and yet, as the days passed, I found myself grappling with feelings that I didn't quite know how to process.

I had healed remarkably well, my injuries now reduced to faint scars and the occasional dull ache. With my recovery came the gradual return of my independence.

At first, I was relieved being able to move freely again, to go about my duties without assistance, was empowering. But there was something I hadn't anticipated: the distance that seemed to grow between me and Ciara.

In the days following our date, our interactions became less frequent, more formal. Ciara was always busy, buried in her duties as a warrior, training soldiers, overseeing strategies, and maintaining order in the realm.