The letter had not left my hands for two days. Each night, I unfolded it again, tracing her words as though they were written not on parchment, but upon my very skin. Her teasing, her bold confessions, her longing woven into every line—they had undone me. The chain she had sent I wore against my chest, hidden beneath my garments, yet it burned like fire with every breath I took, a reminder of the nearness and distance of her love.

I told myself I would wait. Ten days. What were ten days in a lifetime of devotion? And yet… I could not.