The city had gone quiet by the time Amara finally gave in to Adrian's persistence.
"Just one walk," he had said. "Nothing more."
Against every ounce of logic, she agreed. And now, here they were, strolling along the riverside, the moon hanging low above them, its silver light shimmering across the water.
Amara hugged her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "You know, most normal people are asleep right now."
Adrian walked beside her, hands in his pockets, gaze tilted toward the stars. "Maybe I'm not normal."
She gave a small snort. "I could've told you that."
But he didn't rise to the bait this time. Instead, he stopped, lifting his face to the night sky. "Do you ever think about it? How small we are under all this?"
The seriousness in his tone startled her. She turned, studying him. He wasn't smirking, wasn't teasing. He looked almost… vulnerable.
"Sometimes," she admitted quietly. "When I was little, I used to stay up late just to count the stars. I thought… if I could count them all, maybe my wishes would come true."
He glanced at her, a faint smile tugging his lips. "How far did you get?"
"Five hundred and twenty-three." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Then I fell asleep."
The sound of her laughter lingered in the night air, and Adrian's chest tightened. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to hear that sound until now.
"You still wish on them?" he asked.
She hesitated, looking away. "Not anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because wishes don't come true," she whispered, almost to herself.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the lapping water and the hum of crickets.
Then, softly, Adrian said, "Maybe you just wished on the wrong stars."
Her breath caught.
When she turned back to him, he was already watching her—eyes steady, gaze soft, as though he could see every wall she tried so hard to keep up.
And for the first time, she didn't look away.
The world blurred into stillness. The river, the night, the stars—all faded, leaving only him, and her, and the heavy thrum of something unnamed between them.
Amara's lips parted, words trembling at the edge of release, but she swallowed them back. She wasn't ready.
So instead, she whispered, "You're impossible."
Adrian's smile deepened, gentle this time. "And yet… here I am."
Their eyes lingered, the silence between them more intimate than touch.
And under the silver glow of the moon, something unspoken shifted. Something fragile, beautiful, and undeniable.