“I literally haven’t watched a movie in three years,” I said. “So whatever it is, I’ve probably never seen it.”
He clicked the remote. The screen lit up.
“Perfect,” he said.
I didn’t make it through the whole thing.
The couch was warm. The fire was warm. And his voice, when he occasionally commented on something in the film—just low enough to make me lean in—was warmer still.
Somewhere between the second act and the final fight scene, my body gave out.
I drifted.
Wrapped in a soft blanket, belly full, head heavy against the cushion, I let my eyes close.
I wasn’t sure what woke me.
It wasn’t sound. The movie had long since ended, the castle settled into its late‑night hush. It wasn’t light either—only the soft glow of embers flickering in the hearth.
It was sensation.
A ripple be
