"It's the reflection of the moon on water," she says, gazing where silver light dances on black waves. "You know what it makes me wonder?"

The silence stretches between us as I continue to wait.

"Why does everyone want to be someone's sun?" she muses, watching the moon. "Why not be someone's moon? Moonlight proves there's always light in the darkness."

Her words strike deep, making me wonder if I've ever truly felt anything before this moment.

She's lost in thought, but I'm lost in her.

Entirely.

Completely.

Like the moon lost in the night sky, knowing exactly where it belongs.

"You can't stare at the sun the way you can admire the moon." Her luminous eyes meet mine, shimmering like sea glass in dawn light. "Sometimes it's nice to look at something long enough to realize how much you love it."

She doesn't realize she's describing how it feels to be looking at her right now.

"And the moon," she adds, "reminds you you're never actually alone. No matter where you end up, you can look up at night and know someone else is seeing the exact same thing." She tucks her hair behind her ear, thinking. "It's weird to think about—people who'll never meet, maybe don't even speak the same language, all connected by this one thing hanging in the sky."

She glances up.

"When everything feels like too much, I remember people have been staring at that same round rock forever. All these centuries of humans having their worst nights and best nights under it."

The thought makes her smile and it’s the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.

“It’s only visible because of the darkness. How could you ever be afraid of something that gives the stars a home?"

I want to tell her she's the light I didn't know I needed until it found me but the words tangle in my throat. Instead, I pull her closer until her heartbeat meets mine, kissing her hair that smells of lavender and night air, then her temple—gentle, reverent, like something sacred.

This beautiful, fractured but unbreakable girl doesn't just hold my heart. She owns every piece of me, even the ones I thought too dark to give, too broken for love. To love her is to surrender, to stop fighting and fall like rain meeting the ocean.

And fuck me, I'm falling—harder and deeper than possible. Her quiet smile, meant just for me, undoes me completely.

"You know, you should consider writing a book one day."

Her laugh makes my heart ache because all I want is to hear that sound every day, to be its cause.

"Maybe."

"Come on," I say softly, coaxing like trying to tame something wild. "You're tired. Let's go inside."

"I'm glad you're not ignoring me anymore." Her teasing holds a vulnerable plea that cuts through me.

My fingers slip into her dark-silk hair.