[Leif's POV—ThorenVald Estate—Later]
Alvar lay on the bed beside me, one arm under my head, the other gently brushing my hair back as if afraid I might crumble again.
I sniffed once.
Then snuggled closer.
He let out a small, helpless laugh—the kind that melted somewhere deep in my chest—and cupped my face.
"Gosh… look at those swollen eyes," he murmured, thumbing beneath them gently. "It looks like someone punched you."
"You should thank yourself," I muttered.
His mouth twitched.
"…I deserved that," he sighed, pressing a soft kiss near my temple before continuing to wipe my face carefully—like handling something fragile.
When my breathing evened out again, he pulled me even closer, tucking me right under his chin. The warmth of his chest, his fingers brushing my back in slow circles—everything made me want to melt.
"Alright," he murmured after a moment, voice slipping into a teasing tone. "Stop pouting and tell me something."
He pointed toward the battlefield on the floor.
