The first night
After dinner, he clears the plates away, but there is no hurry. Everything that evening has a gentle, slow calm, as if time was made just for us. I’m still sitting at the table, a glass of red wine in my hands, watching him. His movements are confident, but I also notice something else: a certain shyness that makes him seem just as reserved as I am. It is strangely reassuring to know that he is also cautiously exploring this moment.
“Would you like to sit down?”, he finally asks, pointing to the couch in front of the fireplace. The flames are still dancing, albeit a little quieter, less wild. I nod and stand up, unsure how to move, but his hand briefly touches my arm, a gentle guide.
We sink down onto the couch, he on one side, me on the other. There is a distance between us, filled with quiet reserve, but also something I can’t put my finger on - a tingling, a silent connection. The music is still playing, soft and gentle in the background. Then the familiar, gentle notes of Liszt’s Liebestraum sound again and I close my eyes for a moment. This dream of love, I thought before, but now … now it feels as if I am part of this dream.
After a while, which simultaneously feels like forever and just a moment, he scoots closer. “Is this okay?”, he asks, his voice almost a whisper as he puts his arm around my shoulders. I hesitate for a moment, then nod. It feels … right. Warm. Safe. His closeness dispels the last of my insecurities, and without giving it much thought, I let my head sink onto his shoulder.
His heartbeat is calm and steady, a gentle rhythm that calms me more than any words could. The warmth of his body and the remaining embers of the fire in the hearth make me forget the strains of the day - the darkness of the box, the chill of waking. Tiredness overcomes me, heavy yet welcome, and my eyes slowly close and I drift off as his hands gently stroke through my hair.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear his voice again. It’s quiet and soft, just a murmur. “Amber … maybe we should go to bed. You’re tired.”
I lift my head, my movements sluggish, and look at him. His eyes reflect the same exhaustion I feel inside me, but also something else - contentment. He stands up, offers me his hand and I take it without hesitation. We walk down the hallway together and he leads me into a bedroom that is as warm and inviting as everything else in the place.
The bed is big and soft and I look at him, unsure of what’s coming next. But he just smiles and pulls me gently with him. “Come”, he says - his voice as soothing as the glow of the fire still flickering from below. We lie down next to each other and he pulls the blanket over us both. His arms close carefully around me and I rest my head against his chest.
His heartbeat is back, steady, strong. I feel his warmth surround me completely and a soft, almost imperceptible smile plays on my lips. The last notes of Liebestraum still echo in my head, an echo of something that no longer feels like a dream, but like my reality.
The world around us fades. The fire in the fireplace is just a faint glow, the music slowly fades away and the darkness of the room envelops us like a soft cloak. I can hear his breathing, steady and calm, and at some point I can no longer tell whether I’m still awake or already asleep. It doesn’t matter.
Falling asleep in his arms is all I need. I’m no longer just in a dream of love - I’m living it, here, now, with him.