"Everything okay, Elara?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that always had a soothing
effect.
I blinked, pulled back to the present. "Yeah, Roman. Just… thinking."
He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. He knew my 'just thinking' often meant I
was deep in the throes of one of my elaborate romantic fantasies. "Anything
interesting?"
I hesitated, then decided to indulge him with a small piece of my inner world. "Just…
wondering about… what it will be like. When it happens. The real thing." I kept it
vague, careful not to betray the intensity of my imaginings, the specific archetype of
the 'cool boy' I was chasing.
Roman's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a subtle ripple in the calm surface of
his demeanor. He looked away, towards the horizon, his gaze distant. "It'll be…
different," he said, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. "Whatever it is."
I sensed a shift in his tone, a hint of something I couldn't quite place. Was it
wistfulness? A touch of melancholy? I attributed it to his own quiet nature, his
tendency to be introspective. "I hope it's everything I've imagined," I confessed, my
voice barely a whisper, directed more at the rustling leaves than at him. "Grand, and…
perfect."
He turned back to me, his eyes, a clear, steady blue, met mine. For a fleeting moment,
I saw an intensity there that was unusual, a depth of feeling that seemed to hold a
profound, unspoken message. It was a look that spoke of patience, of enduring hope,
and perhaps, of a quiet understanding that my 'perfect' might be a very long way from
the reality he knew, the reality he felt for me. But then, as quickly as it appeared, the
intensity softened, replaced by his usual gentle kindness.
"I hope it makes you happy, Elara," he said, his voice firm and sincere. "More than
anything."