51.

Sleep found her gently, like the soft fall of twilight upon the sea—quiet, undemanding, and inevitable. The world faded in muted tones, and in its place, something ancient bloomed.

She stood in the middle of a sprawling courtyard veiled in golden sunlight, surrounded by carved red pillars and ginkgo trees shedding leaves like rain. There was music—soft, delicate, like wind chimes swaying on a distant breeze. Her breath caught as she looked down.

Silk.

She was clothed in elegant robes of pale lavender and silver, her sleeves flowing past her hands, embroidered with delicate cranes in flight. Her hair was pinned in place with ornate golden combs, decorated with tiny flowers carved from jade. A whisper of weight sat on her forehead—an imperial ornament she somehow knew was meant for someone of high standing.

People moved around her, all dressed in similar ancient Chinese garb—servants, ministers, ladies-in-waiting—but no one paid her much attention. It was as if she was meant to be there. As if this had always been her world.

Then she turned—and saw him.

Caelan.

He looked like a prince born into a storm. Or maybe the king of one. Dressed in black and deep blue robes lined with golden thread, his silver belt carried the mark of a royal crest—dragons swirling into clouds. His hair was longer, tied in a high half-knot, with delicate strands falling around his face. But most striking was his age.

He looked no older than nineteen.

And he was smiling.

A real, crooked, youthful smile that lit up his entire face. Mischievous. Carefree. Reckless.

He leaned against a cherry blossom tree with a small wooden flute in his hand. “You took forever,” he said, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard it.

Alina blinked, stepping closer, her footsteps soft against the stone path. “Took forever for what?”

Caelan raised a brow. “To stop being late to your own palace.”

She stared at him, half in disbelief. “My what?”

He pushed off the tree, coming toward her with that lazy confidence she always associated with him, even in the waking world. “You’re the queen, aren’t you?” he said, gesturing at her robes. “Unless you stole those.”

Alina scoffed, unsure whether to laugh or run. “Are you making fun of me in my own dream?”

Caelan stopped right in front of her and leaned in slightly, his grey eyes twinkling like moonlight dancing on ripples. “That depends. Are you dreaming?”

She opened her mouth, but no answer came. Because she wasn’t sure anymore.

He reached out and plucked a blossom from her hair with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing her temple. “There,” he murmured, then tucked it behind her ear. “Perfect.”

Her cheeks burned. “Why are we dressed like this? What is this place?”

Caelan stepped back and gave a careless shrug. “Does it matter?” Then he took her hand without asking, his fingers warm and oddly comforting. “Come on.”

He led her past flower-draped archways and beneath silken lanterns that glowed like stars, ignoring the startled glances of court members as they walked barefoot across a pond bridge and into the inner gardens. The whole time, they were laughing—actually laughing—like children sneaking away from their duties.

“Tell me something,” she said breathlessly as they slowed near a koi pond, red and white fish swimming beneath their reflections.

“Anything,” he said, spinning a small pebble across the water.

“Why are we like this? Why do we feel... younger?”

He looked at her, thoughtful. “Maybe because here, we’re not afraid yet.”

Alina’s heart tripped. “Afraid of what?”

Caelan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, plucked a petal off the surface of the pond, and handed it to her like it meant something. “You tell me.”

She stared at him. At this version of Caelan who wasn’t haunted. Who wasn’t guarded. Who wasn’t running.

“You’re different here,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“Do you like it better?”

He met her gaze. “Only because you’re here.”

She stilled. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I’m always running to you,” she said quietly, not even realizing the confession had escaped until it was already in the air between them.

Caelan tilted his head, his smile faltering into something tender. “And I’m always waiting for you to stop.”

A breeze stirred around them, rustling the trees like an ancient sigh. The sky above began to shift, clouds rolling over the light as if trying to remind them this moment was borrowed. A dream stitched together from longing.

“I don’t want to wake up,” she said suddenly.

“Then stay.”

“But I can’t,” she whispered. “You always leave.”

Caelan stepped closer, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Then maybe it’s time I stop.”

Their foreheads touched, and she closed her eyes.

The warmth of him. The scent of plum blossoms. The silence of something about to break.

And just like that—

The dream unraveled.

\---

Alina woke with a start, her chest rising and falling like she’d been running. The room was still cloaked in shadows, the faint hum of traffic beyond her window the only sign she was back.

Reality.

She pressed her fingers to her lips. She could still feel him.

Her phone lay discarded beside her pillow. No messages. No missed calls.

But the ache in her chest?

Very real.

And despite everything Hazel had told her… despite everything she had tried to convince herself of…

Alina knew one thing for certain.

She didn’t just miss him.

She was waiting.

Even if she didn't want to be.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it was only in dreams.