Moonlit Confessions
Victor stood motionless, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking and piercing, a calm that appeared to cause the night itself to hold its breath. The night closed around them, heavy and heavy with air, a shroud of velvet that made every slight sound—the leaves rustling, the city's hum in the distance—feel like an intruder, as if belonging to someone else. His lips curled up just barely, a hint of a smile, wistful and mournful at the same time, bearing a burden of regrets long interred, regrets unexpressable. He shook his head slowly, a conscious movement that seemed to span years, as a recollection chiseled too deeply to be rubbed away.
