Pre-Valentine Ultimatum
Snow began without announcement. One moment, the city lights of Marseille shimmered against dark water; the next, white drifted through them, soft and steady, turning rooftops into blurred geometry. The Mediterranean reflected it faintly, a black mirror stippled with cold. I stood on the balcony and let it settle in my hair. Winter again. Winter always when something shifted. Behind me, the doors opened. Silas didn't speak. He didn't need to. The bond marked his presence before the air did—deep, steady, a low current beneath my ribs that made the night feel... organized. "You'll freeze," he said finally. "I won't." Snow touched my face like it recognized me. He stepped beside me, not touching. The city stretched below—ancient stone, modern light, history layered like sediment. So
- Writer
