aztrokat

It took about 9 hours.

Caroline had always believed that nights carried a different kind of truth—but now, they were no longer lonely.

The room was quiet, wrapped in the gentle hush that came after a long day. Moonlight spilled softly across the bed, brushing against her golden hair as it fanned over the pillow. She lay on her side, holding a small plush cat close to her chest, its familiar softness grounding her in a quiet, peaceful way.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Behind her, she could feel his presence—warm, steady, reassuring. Diluc lay close, one arm loosely draped around her waist, his touch protective without ever feeling heavy. Even in sleep, he stayed near, as if some part of him refused to let her drift too far away.

Caroline’s lips curved into the faintest smile.

There had been a time when nights like this felt endless—filled with thoughts she couldn’t quiet, emotions she had nowhere to place. But now, everything was different. She didn’t have to carry those feelings alone anymore.

She shifted slightly, nestling back just enough to feel him more clearly. His warmth spread through her, chasing away even the smallest trace of that old, lingering ache.

“You’re still awake, aren’t you?” his voice came, low and soft, touched with sleep.

Caroline let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

“Maybe.”

His arm tightened just a little, pulling her closer. There was no urgency in it—just something calm, certain. Something that said you’re safe here without needing words.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into that feeling.

“I used to think nights were lonely,” she whispered.

Diluc didn’t answer right away. Instead, his fingers gently brushed against her arm, slow and absentminded, like he was tracing a promise rather than a touch.

“Not anymore,” he said at last.

And he was right.

Caroline hugged the plush cat a little less tightly now, not because she needed it any less—but because she didn’t need it alone. The quiet, the softness, the fragile parts of her heart… all of it was shared.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to feel the warmth of him beside her, to know he was real and not just a dream she would wake from.

“I love you,” she murmured, her voice barely louder than the night.

“I know,” he replied gently. “I love you too.”

The words settled around her like a second blanket—warmer than anything else.

And as sleep slowly claimed her, Caroline realized something simple, something certain:

The night still held truth.