my life is a love letter to you

You would wake up just in time to go and meet Arthur outside Ha Ha's, but other than that, you were either rotting on the sofa or watching TV or sleeping.

Or walking aimlessly around the apartment building like a ghost, because you didn't know what to do with yourself, but Arthur didn't need to know that.

You were grieving the loss of your studying routines, rituals, lifestyle, and everything you associated with your degree. It was like you were grieving an old friend, someone you had cherished and loved dearly... and they were gone before you were ready for them to leave.

The grief hit you harder than you had ever expected, and it had left you breathless, disoriented and lost.

A few weeks after, in the middle of May, you had begun to understand what you were supposed to do with all of the extra free time you had, and had started to re-join the world of the living. You put yourself on the same erratic sleeping schedule as Arthur (or, at least, you went to bed when he did, and you got out of bed when he did... sleep was still difficult for you, with so much extra energy and nowhere for it to go), and tried to clean the apartment, tried to find things to do in Gotham that didn't cost too much money, tried to be there and you supported Arthur in everything he did, wanting to spend as much time with him as possible.

Oh, but you had missed him while you had been 'away' studying. Whether or not you had lived in the apartment with him over the last six years while you were studying was irrelevant; you missed Arthur. He was the beginning and the end of everything. He was the reason you had set out to complete this degree, he was the reason you wanted to make something of yourself, the reason you had tried to find a way to stay alive all those years ago... Arthur was your reason.

Arthur, for his part, had been driven insane watching you kill yourself over balancing a full time job with your full time studies, but he had channelled his worries into looking after you as much as he could, making your life easier as best as he could. Arthur was always so proud of you, you had struggled, survived and thrived in these six years, growing into yourself as your relationship with Arthur grew, as your hair grew and your dreams began to unfurl themselves in front of you. The next step always revealed itself before you knew you needed to take it, such was the nature of your dream career.

You wanted to be a therapist, not so you could help Arthur, specifically, though you did this as much as you could, but so you could help people like him. That was all you wanted to do, in honour of everything he had taught you, in honour of the love that you shared and the seven years you had shared together thus far.

Your life, for the last seven years, had been a love letter to Arthur, and he marvelled at its contents.

By the time you reached the middle of June, your grief had abated somewhat, but your worries and anxieties about your Bachelor's psychology with counselling honours degree results had warped into 'I didn't try hard enough', 'I've failed and I know it', 'I've let Arthur down, he's gonna hate me, I didn't honour him, I've dishonoured him', and more. You ripped yourself apart every night so seamlessly that by the time morning rolled around, as it always does, no one knew.

Arthur did, but Arthur knew that telling you he was counting down the days until you found out your results would trigger anxiety attacks, and so he stayed silent. All he could do was tell you what you already knew, which was that you had worked so hard, so how could you fail?

You tried to believe him, you did, but not even your love for your husband could save you from your own mind.

As the months crept closer and closer to results day, which happened to be your birthday, it got to the point where someone even mentioning results turned into an instant anxiety attack. There was no warning, no build-up, no way of stopping it. Your heart rate would sky rocket, your hands would begin to shake, and intervention had a small ten second window or you would begin to experience an anxiety attack.

Arthur had handled many of your 'moments' over the years, as you referred to your anxiety and panic attacks, but he had never seen you experience so many as intensely as these, in such a short period of time.

It was all he could do to keep you 'level', and that meant very carefully not talking about university, your degree, your results, or anything. You could talk about moving on, you could talk about next steps, you had even hired a careers advisor for a year to help you get to where you wanted to be, but you couldn't face the concept of your results without having an anxiety or a panic attack.

Your desk had not ever been cleaned off, it still looked like it did when you had submitted your dissertation, even when July ticked around.

You always faced what scared you with shaking hands and a fierce look in your eyes, but this...

Arthur had never known you to be so afraid of something before, especially when you had been in control of the academic situation for six years. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of all-nighters, hundreds of times where you had been awake for more than the twenty-four hours in a day (your record had peaked at thirty six hours in your fourth year, and then you had beaten it in fifth year with thirty eight hours), tens of assignments, five times before where you had been scared of your results, but the sixth time... Arthur wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't kill you off.

You were, quite simply, terrified of the inevitable.

Finally, finally, your torment was almost over, just when you thought you couldn't take anymore (Arthur knew you couldn't, and his relief to find out that your results had been released was palpable), and it was late July.

Despite knowing what was happening at midnight 21st July , you hadn't been prepared for the email that said 'Your Results Are In!'. White hot heat flooded your body and for a brief moment, you thought you were going to be sick. It was a similar sensation. You took a moment to breathe, you took a moment to realise that this was it.

The results of six years of soul-destroying work (oh, but you had loved every second of it and you would do it all over again just for fun if you could, you were a student at heart), was in your hands. All you had to do was click on the link, log in, and your pain was over.

Or... the insidious voice in your mind whispered, it's just beginning. You've failed, you didn't work hard enough, Arthur is about to find out you have let him down and he'll divorce you.

You whimpered, and Arthur's head shot up, his dark hair brushing the tops of his bony shoulders as he examined your body language. His oceanic eyes widened - he knew that position of yours. Sat sideways on the sofa, one leg dangling over, the other tucked so that your foot was touching your inner thigh, bent over at the waist, like a pretzel.

You had your results.

Arthur said nothing. He let you have your moment. He was as anxious as you, his knees and hands trembling, but Arthur held himself together. This was your moment.

The page loaded, and he watched you. No expression on your face, none at all. Your eyes roamed the page, and still with no expression on your face, you said, "Arthur, can you pass me my phone, please?"

Arthur nodded, handed you your phone. It was on the table right next to you, but he didn't say anything. Your self-control, your poker face, had always amazed him.

"Thank you."

You took your phone, and Arthur noticed you took care not to touch him - holding yourself together.

You called a number, and then said, "What's a Pass Grade 2 mean?"

The person on the other side spoke, and your eyes widened.

"... What? Are you sure?"

Again, the other person was talking, and you were white-knuckling your phone. Tears filled your eyes, but you didn't let them fall.

"I'm... okay, thank you so much, I'll call you back later. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. I am questioning my own eyeballs, thank you for checking."

You called someone else, and it was almost the same conversation, word for word, as you waited for them to affirm your suspicions. To confirm what you had already been told. You always sought reassurance from three people before you relaxed, because three was the scientific method.

The way you doubted yourself over everything always broke Arthur's heart.

No one hurt you more than you did.

Your voice was trembling as you finished the second call, and you clicked on your laptop some more. Another results page, Arthur knew from previous years. He watched you process your results and the phone calls in real time. He knew nothing, but he had his suspicions. You were so carefully composed externally, though internally he knew emotions were flying through you like a hurricane. You had always felt so much more than you ever said.

Arthur wondered what had happened, before he had come into your life, to teach you that.

He hoped he never met them.

Finally, you nodded to yourself, put your head in your hands, and breathed in. You had always liked a 6-6-6 count, it made you laugh. In for six, hold for six, out for six.

You did this six times, and then looked Arthur square in the eyes.

"Arthur, I, uh... my results. I have them." You swallowed thickly.

There - you were ready to share, though you had not processed by any means. You were terrified.

"Yeah?"

Arthur came rushing over, he kneeled down beside you on the floor, you angled your screen so he could read it:

Pass Grade 2.

"What - what does that mean?"

"Uh, so," you smiled softly, and Arthur's heart picked up as you clicked to another page on your laptop and pointed out sentences surrounded by graphs and numbers, "I scored 74% on my dissertation... 73% overall on my sixth year... and a Pass Grade 2 means I did it. I fucking did it. I got a 2:1, Arthur."

Arthur frowned, and you elaborated, "that means I can be a therapist once I've done more training. It means I can do a Master's degree. I did it, Arthur! I did it I did it I did it!!!!"

As you said your results out loud for the first time, the metal vice that had been constricting your ribcage for the last six years fell away.

You were so scared it was going to shatter the glass floor you felt like were stood on, scared that these were someone else's results.

Even still, you knew they weren't.

And so you had to do your best to process the news, but that would come in time.

He watched as you jumped up and ran over to the photo on your office wall, the one of you as a seven year old, with the caption "do it for her" underneath.

"I did it, little me. I made it happen, just like I promised. You're gonna get your cool graduation hat! I got what I needed to keep my promise to you and to Arthur! I did it!"

And that was it - you broke.

You sunk to your knees, laughing and crying, right there on the floor in front of the photo of you as a child.

Arthur ran over, bent down on the floor beside you, and you threw yourself at him. "I did it, Arthur!" You were giggling, crying, "I'm in shock, I - how did I do it?"

"You know how," Arthur murmured, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I never doubted you for a second!" Kisses were rained all over your face and you let them, you let Arthur love on you, so happy were you that nothing else mattered other than this moment right here.

Even so, you were in genuine shock.

How the fuck did you manage a 2:1????

You???

Immediately, Arthur began making plans to take you out to dinner, he didn't have much money, but he had his Carnival suit, he was getting paid in a few days, he could always ration his medication for a day or so to make it all stretch... Arthur shook his head, you would be angry if he did that.

But he had to do something.

"Let me take you to dinner, to celebrate?"

Arthur was never sure of himself, everything was a question, the anticipation of rejection too great. You would never say no to Arthur, you never had, and especially not now.

You looked up at Arthur, your eyes red, your face blotchy. He cradled your face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe your tears away. "I'm so proud of you," a kiss was pressed to the tip of your nose, and you began to cry anew, in a true state of shock.

You nodded, you wanted to celebrate. You wanted to sleep. You wanted to do so many things. You would need time to process, the both of you knew, but it would come slowly, as all things must.

"Please," I'm so tired, you thought, even in your happiness and relief, "but... can we cuddle first? I'm in shock... I really had myself convinced I'd failed."

Arthur's arms were so tight around you in the next second that his grasp replaced the metal vice you had carried around for the last six years. You missed it, and already you wanted to go back to university. You wanted to go back right now.

But you were wanting to enjoy the moment before you started calling people. Your parents, grandparent, aunt, your manager, co-workers... It had all been for Arthur, it would continue to be for Arthur, and this moment especially, was one you wanted to share with Arthur.

Weddings were meant to unite families. Yours had only reminded you how easily they could fall apart.

The ceremony hall was alive with quiet grandeur. Gods from countless pantheons, ancient rulers, and immortal beings filled the rows of polished obsidian seats, their hushed conversations weaving through the soft melody of a distant orchestra. Thousands of candles bathed the Dreaming in a warm golden glow, their flames dancing beneath a ceiling where stars shimmered like scattered diamonds.

It was a celebration unlike any held in centuries—a wedding worthy of Orpheus, son of Dream of the Endless. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding you, all you could feel was the crushing weight of the empty seat beside your heart... and the occupied one beside your chair.

You closed your eyes and drew in a slow, steady breath. The air carried the faint scent of white lilies and melted candle wax, while distant strings echoed through the palace like a dream woven into melody. When you opened your eyes again, the Great Hall shimmered beneath countless stars suspended across its endless ceiling. Gods, immortals, and ancient rulers filled every seat, their voices blending into a respectful murmur as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

It was beautiful.

Painfully so.

Once, you had imagined standing here with Morpheus' hand wrapped around yours, watching your son begin a new chapter of his life together. Instead, the only thing separating you now was years of silence that neither of you had ever been brave enough to break.

Your fingers curled around the stem of the crystal goblet before you brought it to your lips. The sweet taste of grape juice did little to ease the knot that had settled in your chest.

Your gaze lingered on the crowd, your expression calm enough to fool anyone who didn't truly know you. It was your son's wedding, after all. Whatever grief you carried had no place on a day that belonged to him.

Your gaze drifted to Orpheus—to your son, who would soon become a husband—and to Eurydice standing beside him. They looked as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Every smile they shared came effortlessly, every glance lingering just a heartbeat longer than the last. You had never seen Orpheus like this before. Not as a prince, not as a poet, nor as the boy who once ran through the halls of the Dreaming.

He looked… happy. Truly happy

Your gaze drifted farther across the hall.

And then you saw him.

Morpheus.

Clad in black, he stood taller than nearly everyone around him, his long coat falling like a living shadow to the floor. Even from across the hall, there was something unmistakable about him. The quiet authority. The stillness. The piercing blue eyes that had once looked at you with nothing but love.

Your former husband.

Your gaze drifted farther across the hall.

And then you saw him.

Morpheus.

Dressed in black as always, he stood among gods and kings with the same quiet authority that had once drawn every eye in the room—including yours.

For a fleeting moment, neither of you moved.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he slowly lifted his head.

Your eyes met.

Centuries passed between that single glance.

Neither of you smiled.

Neither of you looked away first.

Until someone called his name.

Morpheus gave the slightest incline of his head before turning away, making his way through the crowd with measured, unhurried steps.

Only then did you realize you had been holding your breath.

Your gaze followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, each measured step carrying him farther away from you.

He stopped only when he reached Orpheus.

For a brief moment, father and son simply looked at one another.

Morpheus was the first to break the silence.

"Congratulations, Orpheus."

His voice was as calm and composed as ever, yet there was something softer beneath it—something only those who knew him well could have noticed.

Orpheus smiled, the kind of smile you had not seen on his face in years.

"Thank you, Father."

Without another word, Morpheus rested a hand on his son's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, brief enough to go unnoticed by most of the guests, yet it spoke louder than any speech ever could.

"I wish you every happiness," he said quietly.

Orpheus's smile widened as he glanced toward Eurydice before looking back at his father.

"I already have it."

For the first time that evening, the corners of Morpheus's lips lifted ever so slightly.

It was almost imperceptible.

But you saw it.

Unable to endure his gaze for more than a heartbeat, you lowered your eyes to the crystal goblet before you, pretending it deserved more of your attention than he did.

You had spent days convincing yourself you were ready for this moment. The lie unraveled the instant your eyes met his. Your heartbeat turned uneven, and the crystal goblet trembled ever so slightly between your fingers.

As you sat beside Morpheus, Death turned her gaze toward you. There was no judgment in her warm look, only a calm understanding—as if she alone truly grasped the burden you had carried all these years.

Unlike the rest of the Endless, warmth seemed to follow wherever she went. She greeted every guest with the same gentle smile, whether they were a god, a king, or a humble servant. Kindness came as naturally to her as breathing.

Over the years, she had become more than Morpheus's sister to you. She had been a confidante, a comforting presence, and, on more than one occasion, the only person capable of making the Dream Lord laugh.

When your eyes met, she offered you a small, knowing smile.

It was not pity.

It was understanding.

The Endless had gathered beneath one roof—an occurrence so rare that even the oldest gods regarded it with quiet fascination.

Destiny remained as silent as ever, his chained book resting securely in his hands. Every now and then, he turned another page, as though today's events had been written long before any of them had taken their first breath.

Desire looked utterly radiant, draped in silk and adorned with jewels that caught the candlelight. A knowing smile lingered on their lips, as if they already knew how the evening would unfold.

Despair sat close by, her shoulders slightly hunched, absentmindedly tracing the edge of her silver ring while watching the celebration through distant eyes.

Delirium wandered from guest to guest with childlike curiosity, her mismatched eyes sparkling as she admired every flower, every decoration, and every unfamiliar face. No one seemed entirely certain what she might say next.

And then there was one empty seat.

Destruction.

You found yourself staring at it for a moment longer than necessary. Even after all these years, his absence was noticeable whenever the Endless gathered together.

Your attention eventually returned to the family seated before you.

And then, inevitably, to him.

The man you had spent years trying not to miss.

The soft murmur of the guests gradually faded.

One by one, conversations ceased until the vast hall fell into an almost sacred stillness. Even Delirium seemed to sense the change, quietly returning to her place as the musicians lowered their instruments.

At the far end of the hall, the great doors slowly opened.

Every head turned.

Orpheus stood there beside Eurydice, his expression brighter than you had ever remembered seeing it. He offered her his hand, and together they began their walk toward the altar.

You found yourself smiling.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the gods, the Endless, the years of silence.

There was only your son.

Your little boy, who once wandered through the halls of the Dreaming with ink-stained fingers and stories spilling endlessly from his lips, was standing before you as a man.

And he was about to promise his life to someone he loved.

The officiant stepped forward.

"Orpheus. Eurydice."

Their hands intertwined.

"Today, you stand before gods, immortals, and those who have loved you long before this moment. But no vow spoken here will matter as much as the one you make to each other."

Orpheus looked at Eurydice.

His smile softened.

"I choose you," he whispered.

You kept your eyes fixed on Orpheus, refusing to glance at the man standing only inches beside you.

Your son stood before the altar with Eurydice, his hands clasped around hers as he spoke his vows. There was such certainty in his voice, such devotion in his eyes, that your chest tightened with emotion.

And then, without warning, you remembered.

Your own wedding.

You remembered standing beneath the same endless sky of the Dreaming, though the hall had been far quieter then. You remembered the weight of Morpheus's hand in yours, his fingers carefully intertwined with yours as though he were afraid you might disappear.

He had looked at you exactly the way Orpheus was looking at Eurydice now.

As though you were the only being in existence worth seeing.

You remembered the faint smile that had touched his lips when you said your vows. The way his usually distant eyes had softened when he slipped the ring onto your finger. And the way, when the ceremony was over, he had leaned close and whispered something meant only for you.

For a moment, you could almost feel his hand in yours again.

Almost.

Then Orpheus's voice pulled you back to the present.

You blinked, the memory dissolving as quickly as it had appeared.

Your hand tightened around your goblet.

Morpheus was still beside you.

And you still hadn't looked at him.

You forced yourself to clap along with the rest of the guests, doing your best to lose yourself in the warmth of the celebration. The heat of the candles brushed against your face, yet somehow, you still couldn't shake the chill settling beneath your skin.

You tried to steady yourself.

Your heels struck against the polished floor with each step, the sharp sound echoing through the hall and drawing your attention away from the thoughts you desperately tried to suppress.

You reached the table first and took your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you composed yourself.

Your gaze remained fixed ahead, following Orpheus and his bride as they slowly made their way toward their seats.

Your son.

And the woman who would soon become his wife.

You smiled faintly.

If only you could keep your attention on them.

If only you didn't feel Morpheus taking the seat beside you.

Morpheus settled into the chair beside you without a word.

His hands rested loosely against the arms of the chair, long fingers perfectly still, save for the occasional subtle movement of his thumb against the dark fabric beneath it. He leaned back slightly, his posture as composed as ever.

His gaze traveled across the hall.

Those sharp, piercing eyes took in every detail—the gathered gods, the endless rows of candles, the musicians, the newlyweds at the center of it all. Nothing escaped his notice.

Yet despite his attention seeming to belong to the celebration, you could feel it.

Every so often, his gaze returned to you.

And you refused to look back.

You continued to lie to yourself.

You told yourself that you were simply focused on Orpheus. That the ceremony deserved your full attention. That there was no reason to wonder whether Morpheus was still watching you.

But deep down, you knew better.

You could feel his presence beside you—the quiet weight of him, the familiar stillness you had once found comforting.

And no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, some part of you still remembered what it had felt like to belong beside him.

The music changed.

A soft melody filled the hall, and the guests began to rise slowly from their seats. As laughter echoed against the old walls, couples stood up, preparing to leave the ritual behind.

Your eyes were fixed on Orpheus.

I had forgotten something.

You watched the moment Eurydice extended her hand—observing the fear hidden beneath his confident smile. He had always been a dreamer, a poet too gentle for this world.

And then, you noticed it.

His hesitation.

The way he acted as if he were unsure of the music’s steady, continuing rhythm.

A small smile played on your lips.

Some things never change.

He had inherited more than just that from his father; perhaps, without even realizing it, the two of you had come to mind.

Oh, memories… Memories that refuse to let go.

The music shifted once more, becoming lighter, almost playful.

Before you could lose yourself in your thoughts, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

"Everyone is dancing."

You turned your head.

Delirium stood before you, her colorful attire moving with every small motion, her mismatched eyes bright with excitement.

She looked between you and Morpheus.

"No sitting. Sitting is boring."

A small smile almost escaped you.

Only Delirium could command the Dream Lord so effortlessly.

Morpheus looked at his youngest sister with his usual unreadable expression.

"Sister—"

"No."

She reached for his hand before he could finish, then looked at you expectantly.

"You too."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Morpheus stood.

Not because he wanted to dance.

Because it was Delirium.

And even after all these years, some things had not changed.

He still had a way of pulling his family together.

Delirium's hand was still extended toward you, her expression filled with quiet expectation.

For a moment, you considered refusing.

Then you looked at your son.

Orpheus was watching with a small smile, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you found yourself placing your hand in Delirium's.

A few moments later, you were standing beside Morpheus in the center of the hall.

The music began.

Neither of you spoke.

His hand rested carefully against yours, as though he was unsure whether even that small contact was something he was still allowed to have.

And yet, when you moved, he followed.

Just as he always had.

That was the cruelest part.

After all these years, your bodies still remembered what your hearts had tried so hard to forget.

The way he guided you.

The way you matched his steps.

The way silence between you had once felt peaceful instead of painful.

You kept your eyes away from his, focusing instead on the lights above the hall.

But you could feel him.

You always could.

"You are still avoiding my gaze."

His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the music.

A small breath escaped you.

"And you are still noticing everything."

For the first time that evening, something almost like a smile touched his expression.

The music carried on, slow and steady, as the two of you moved across the floor.

For a moment, the hall around you disappeared.

There were no gods watching.

No Endless standing nearby.

No years of silence separating you.

Only the memory of a time when his hand in yours had been the safest place in all existence.

"You remember this song."

Morpheus's voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his hand.

"I remember many things."

His gaze remained on you.

"Do you remember our wedding?"

The question was simple.

Yet it carried the weight of centuries.

You looked away, watching the candles flicker around the hall.

"How could I forget?"

And you couldn't.

You remembered standing beside him beneath the endless stars of the Dreaming. You remembered the way the entire universe seemed quieter when he spoke your name. You remembered believing that nothing could ever come between you.

Morpheus followed your gaze toward the decorations surrounding Orpheus's celebration.

"Orpheus was so young then."

A faint softness entered his voice.

"He held onto your dress and refused to let go when the ceremony ended."

Despite yourself, a small smile appeared.

"He always was stubborn."

A pause.

"Like his father."

For the first time in years, the silence between you did not feel like a wall.

It felt like a memory.

The music softened into a slower melody.

Morpheus's hand found yours carefully, almost hesitantly, as though he was asking permission without words. For a moment, you only stared at your joined hands.

How many times had those same fingers held yours before?

How many times had you danced beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, believing that nothing could ever take this away from you?

You finally looked up.

His eyes were already on you.

"You still remember the steps."

His voice was quiet.

A faint, almost humorless smile touched your lips.

"Some things are difficult to forget."

The two of you moved together, slowly turning beneath the golden light of the hall. His movements were as graceful as ever, controlled and precise, but you noticed the difference.

He was being careful with you.

As if you were something fragile.

As if he feared you might pull away.

"You used to laugh when I stepped on your feet."

The memory caught you off guard.

A small breath escaped you.

"You were terrible at dancing."

"I am aware."

For a moment, there was something familiar in his tone. Almost playful.

The same Morpheus you had known.

The same man who once tried to dance with you despite having no sense of rhythm.

Your smile faded slowly.

"I missed that."

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Morpheus's expression changed.

Only slightly.

But you noticed.

"You missed what?"

You looked away.

"The man you were before."

Silence followed.

The music continued around you, but neither of you moved for a heartbeat.

Then Morpheus gently guided you into another turn, his hand never leaving yours.

"I was still that man."

Your eyes returned to his.

"I simply forgot how to be him."

Across the hall, Orpheus watched.

His hand rested gently in Eurydice's as they stood among the celebration, but his attention had shifted toward his parents.

For years, he had wondered what they were like before everything changed.

He remembered them as fragments.

His mother's laughter echoing through the halls of the Dreaming.

His father's quiet presence beside her.

Two beings who seemed impossible to separate.

And yet, somehow, they had become strangers.

Eurydice noticed the distant look in his eyes.

"You are thinking about them."

Orpheus glanced at her, a small smile appearing.

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes."

He looked back toward the dance floor, watching the way his mother and father moved together.

"They still remember."

Eurydice followed his gaze.

"Do you think they can find their way back?"

Orpheus was quiet for a moment.

Then he looked at the woman beside him.

"I don't know."

A gentle smile touched his face.

"But I know what it feels like to find someone you cannot imagine losing."

Eurydice squeezed his hand and smiled.

And for the first time that evening, Orpheus allowed himself to believe that perhaps some things were not as broken as they seemed.

Orpheus did not interrupt them.

He simply watched.

There was something strange about seeing his parents together again. Not as rulers, not as beings feared by countless worlds, but simply as two people who had once loved each other.

He noticed the smallest things.

The way his mother still knew exactly when his father was about to move.

The way Morpheus instinctively adjusted his steps to match hers.

The way neither of them seemed aware that they were doing it.

Eurydice followed his gaze and smiled softly.

"They still know each other."

Orpheus looked at her.

"Even after all this time."

She nodded.

"Some connections don't disappear just because people stop reaching for them."

Those words stayed with him.

Because he knew his parents.

His father, who carried entire realms upon his shoulders but struggled to speak about his own feelings.

His mother, who had always been strong for everyone else, even when she was hurting.

Maybe they did not need someone to fix what was broken.

Maybe they only needed someone to remind them that something beautiful had existed before the pain.

Orpheus looked down at Eurydice's hand in his.

And he silently promised himself that he would never allow silence to become stronger than love.

As the night grew older, the grand hall slowly began to empty.

The music faded into quieter melodies until even those sounds disappeared beneath the soft murmur of departing guests.

Crystal goblets remained scattered across the tables, and the once-full bottles of wine stood nearly empty, forgotten among the remnants of the celebration.

The gods who had filled the hall with laughter and conversation had begun to leave one by one.

Even Delirium had finally been persuaded to go, though not without leaving a trail of unfinished thoughts and impossible smiles behind her.

You watched as Orpheus and Eurydice exchanged a quiet glance.

They did not need to say anything.

After offering their final goodbyes, they disappeared beyond the great doors of the hall, leaving behind the celebration that had belonged to them.

And then there was silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that carried centuries of words never spoken.

You remained seated at the table.

Beside you, Morpheus had not moved.

For the first time that evening, there was no crowd to hide behind.

No music to fill the space between you.

No reason to pretend you were strangers.

Only you.

And him.

The man you had once loved.

The hall had grown completely silent.

Outside, far away from the remains of the celebration, the night air was colder. The gardens of the Dreaming stretched endlessly around them, the stars above offering a quiet witness to the conversation neither of them had dared to have.

You sat across from each other at a small stone table.

Between you were nothing but an ashtray, a glass of wine, and the weight of everything left unsaid.

You looked down at the cigarette between your fingers for a moment before lighting it.

The small flame briefly illuminated your face before disappearing into the darkness.

Morpheus watched the movement carefully.

"You did not smoke when you were with me."

The observation was quiet, not accusing.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze fixed somewhere beyond him.

"I changed."

A pause followed.

"Even gods change, Morpheus."

His expression remained unreadable.

"You speak of change as though it were simple."

A faint smile touched your lips, but there was no happiness in it.

"Perhaps it is not simple. But it happens anyway."

The silence returned.

Morpheus looked toward the glass of wine resting between you.

"You began living like mortals."

Your eyes lifted to his.

"I wanted to understand them."

"Humans?"

You nodded.

"Their lives are so short. They love despite knowing they can lose everything. They change because they have no choice but to keep moving forward."

Morpheus studied you carefully.

"Smoking, drinking, growing distant from what you once were… these are not things I would have expected from you."

You looked away.

"Maybe that was the problem."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I spent centuries trying to be what everyone expected me to be."

Your fingers rested against the edge of the table. Your white dress had already started to smell of cigarettes. You didn't mind.

"A goddess. A queen. Your wife."

The last word lingered between you.

"And somewhere along the way, I forgot who I was."

For a moment, Morpheus said nothing.

The Dream Lord, who had faced endless worlds and impossible battles, seemed to have no answer for that.

Finally, his voice softened.

"Mortals have changed you."

You looked at him.

"No."

A quiet breath escaped you.

"Life changed me."

And for once, Morpheus did not argue.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

The wind moved quietly through the gardens, carrying away the last traces of music from the celebration. Somewhere beyond the trees, the Dreaming continued to breathe, unaware of the two immortals sitting beneath the stars, trying to understand everything they had lost.

Morpheus's fingers rested against the edge of the table, unmoving.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"You believe I did not change."

You looked at him.

"Did I say that?"

His eyes remained on yours.

"You did not need to."

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked down at the cigarette between your fingers.

"You were always good at hearing the things I never said."

A faint sadness crossed his expression.

"And yet, I failed to hear the things that mattered."

The words surprised you.

For a moment, you simply stared at him.

Morpheus had never been someone who easily admitted his mistakes. He carried his pride like armor, something impossible to break through.

But tonight, there was no kingdom to rule.

No title to protect.

Only two people sitting across from each other.

"I thought you did not care."

Your voice was quieter now.

Morpheus looked away.

"I cared too much."

You frowned slightly.

"That was never how it felt."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"I believed that protecting you meant keeping my distance."

His voice lowered.

"I spent eternity surrounded by responsibilities, by endless duties, by the weight of my realm. I convinced myself that because I loved you, you would understand."

You looked at him.

"Love does not always survive on understanding alone, Morpheus."

The words remained between you.

He did not argue.

And somehow, that hurt more.

You took another breath, letting the smoke disappear into the night air.

"Do you know what hurt the most?"

His gaze returned to you.

"Tell me."

You hesitated.

Not because you did not know the answer.

Because you had carried it for too long.

"It was not losing the Dreaming."

Your fingers tightened slightly.

"It was not leaving the palace. It was not becoming someone different."

You swallowed.

"It was waking up every day and realizing I was standing beside someone who felt like a stranger."

Morpheus lowered his eyes.

For once, he had no defense.

"I know."

You looked at him in surprise.

"Do you?"

A long pause.

"I do now."

The honesty in his voice was almost unfamiliar.

You looked toward the empty garden.

"I used to think immortals were supposed to be unchanging."

A small, bitter smile appeared.

"But that is not true, is it?"

Morpheus followed your gaze toward the stars.

"No."

His voice was softer.

"Even the oldest beings can be changed by love."

The words made your expression falter.

Because once, a very long time ago, you had believed that was exactly what you were to him.

A change.

A choice.

A home.

Morpheus looked at the cigarette in your hand.

"I still do not like that you smoke."

A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"Of course you don't."

For the first time that night, something almost familiar appeared between you.

Not happiness.

Not yet.

But something close.

"You always disliked things you could not control."

His eyes lifted to yours.

"And you always challenged everything I tried to control."

You smiled faintly.

"Maybe that is why you loved me."

A silence followed.

Then Morpheus answered.

"Perhaps it is why I still do..."

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

The words stayed between you.

"Perhaps it is why I still love you."

You went completely still.

The cigarette between your fingers remained untouched as the smoke curled upward, forgotten. You had been about to take another breath, another moment to steady yourself, but your body refused to move.

You simply stared at him.

Morpheus.

The man who had spent years behind walls of silence.

The man who had let you leave without asking you to stay.

The man who was now sitting across from you, saying the one thing you had convinced yourself you would never hear again.

The night suddenly felt quieter.

Even the wind seemed to disappear.

Your fingers slowly lowered, the cigarette burning away between them.

You searched his face for something.

Regret.

Doubt.

A trace of hesitation.

But you found none.

Only the same unbearable honesty that had always frightened you more than anger ever could.

For once, you had no answer.

No sharp remark.

No carefully chosen words to protect yourself.

Only silence.

And Morpheus, for the first time in centuries, allowed that silence to remain.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, you placed the cigarette into the ashtray between you.

Not because he had asked you to.

Not because you wanted to become the person you had been before.

But because, for the first time in a very long time, you wanted to stay in the moment instead of running from it.

Your eyes met his.

"You hurt me."

The words were quiet.

But they carried centuries of silence.

Morpheus did not look away.

"I know."

A small, painful smile touched your lips.

"I hated that you knew."

His expression softened.

"I hated that I understood too late."

The honesty in his voice broke something inside you—not completely, not enough to erase the past, but enough to let something new enter.

You looked down at your hands.

"I don't know if we can return to what we were."

Morpheus was silent for a moment.

Then he reached across the table.

Not to take your hand.

Not to demand forgiveness.

Only to place his hand there, waiting.

A choice.

An invitation.

"Neither do I."

His voice was almost a whisper.

"But perhaps we were never meant to return."

You looked at him.

"Then what are we meant to do?"

His eyes held yours.

"Begin again."

The answer was simple.

Almost impossible.

Yet somehow, it was enough.

The night remained quiet around you. The empty glasses, the fading smoke, and the remnants of a celebration that had brought you together after so many years surrounded you.

But for the first time in centuries, the silence between you did not feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something neither of you dared to name.

Slowly, carefully, you placed your hand over his.

Morpheus looked down at the gesture, then back at you.

And for a moment, you saw him.

Not the Dream Lord.

Not the ruler of the Dreaming.

Just the man who had once loved you.

And perhaps still did.

"I missed you."

The confession was barely louder than the wind.

His fingers gently closed around yours.

"I know."

A pause.

"I missed you as well."

And beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, after all the years lost between you, neither of you pulled away.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Your hand remained in his, a simple gesture that somehow carried the weight of centuries.

Morpheus looked at you as though he was seeing you again for the first time.

Not the queen who had stood beside him.

Not the immortal who had shared his realm.

Not the woman who had walked away.

Just you.

The woman he had loved before duty, before pride, before silence.

His thumb moved gently against your hand.

"I have spent eternity dreaming of countless worlds."

His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the night.

"Yet I failed to see the one world I had already been given."

Your breath caught.

Morpheus's gaze never left yours.

"I thought eternity meant never losing anything."

A pause.

"I was wrong."

The stars above seemed endless.

"Eternity is knowing there are some things worth finding again."

For the first time in centuries, you had no need for words.

Because you understood.

He was not promising to erase the past.

He was promising not to lose the future.

And beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, the Dream Lord reached for your hand once more.

Not as a king.

Not as an Endless.

But as the man who had finally found his way home.

But as the first light touched the Dreaming, you finally understood that not every ending was meant to be a goodbye.