THE MORNING LIGHT AND WANDERING HEARTS

Sophie woke with a warmth still lingering on her lips.

The memory of the night before—the kiss, the closeness, the way James had touched her like she was fragile and precious—played through her mind like a quiet film. She lay still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, letting the softness of dawn filter through the sheer curtains.

Downstairs, she could hear the faint clatter of utensils. Her aunt was up.

She sat up slowly, brushing her hair away from her face. The house felt different this morning. Like it was holding its breath. Like something sacred had passed through it during the night.

Sophie pulled on a sweater and made her way down the stairs.

James was already seated at the dining table, dressed in the same clothes she had lent him the night before. His hair was damp from a quick shower, and he looked oddly domestic sitting across from Aunt Anne ,who was sipping tea and asking him about some of his lifestyle.

Sophie froze for a second when their eyes met. James gave her the faintest smile.

"Good morning," he said.

Her heart fluttered again. "Morning."

Aunt Anne looked up with a knowing smirk. "You're just in time. Tea's hot. Bread's still warm."

Sophie slid into the seat next to James, avoiding direct eye contact but acutely aware of how close they were.

The meal was mostly quiet, filled with small talk. Aunt Anne carried the conversation with ease, and James responded politely. Sophie caught him stealing glances at her more than once, and every time, she felt her cheeks heat up.

When breakfast was over, Anne gave Sophie a gentle nudge and said, "Why don't you two go out? The weather's lovely. You've been inside too much."

James looked at Sophie. "Want to?"

She nodded without hesitation.

They walked together through Elowen's quiet streets, past the rows of garden-lined houses, until the town thinned into hills and soft wild meadows. The sky was a soft blue, brushed with passing clouds. Birds chirped from branches overhead, and the wind carried the scent of grass and lilac.

Neither of them spoke much.

They didn't need to.

Sophie had always believed that silence between two people could be awkward or beautiful. This silence—this peaceful quiet—was something she never wanted to end.

It wasn't until they reached the slope of a small hill just beyond the edge of the town that James finally broke the silence.

"Did you sleep well?"

Sophie gave a quiet laugh. "Eventually. My heart wouldn't stop racing for a while."

James looked at her lovingly "same"

They reached a low, sun-warmed rock, and sat side by side. Sophie looked out at the hills, then at James.

"Do you think we'll always feel like this?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Like... the world stops when we're together."

James didn't answer immediately. Then he said, "I hope so. It's one of the only things that makes time bearable."

She leaned her head on his shoulder.

He didn't move.

"I still don't understand how you're real," Sophie murmured.

James chuckled softly. "I've spent centuries asking myself the same thing."

They sat in quiet for a while, Sophie's hand brushing his, their pinkies finally intertwining.

"I want to know more about you," she said. "Not just the magic or the mystery. I want to know your favorite season. The first book that made you cry. The meal you miss the most."

He smiled. "You sure?"

"I have time."

James turned to her, his expression unreadable. "No, you don't."

Sophie froze.

"But I do," he added. "So I'll remember every word you say."

She didn't know what to say to that. Instead, she closed the space between them and laid her head on his chest. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"I know."

"But I still want to feel everything," she added. "Even if it hurts later."

James pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Then let's feel everything together."

They stayed like that for a long time, letting the world move around them. They talked about little things. About James's favorite smell (old parchment and burning cedar). About Sophie's favorite childhood hiding place (beneath the old rosebush in her grandmother's garden). About the time James learned how to drive during a war. About the first time Sophie fell off a bicycle.

They laughed. They held hands. They didn't check the time.

Eventually, the sun began to lower in the sky, casting warm amber over the fields.

"We should head back," James said.

Sophie nodded, but didn't stand immediately. "Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For letting me feel... alive."

James gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You never stopped being alive, Sophie," he said. "You just forgot you had more to live for."

And with that, they walked home together. Slower this time. Because sometimes the best parts of life aren't in the destinations—but in the walks shared with someone who makes you feel like forever isn't such a scary thing after all.

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