"Yes," he said with conviction. "It will be much better."
That... did not match what her brain had prepared for.
Still flustered, she nodded anyway and carefully stood up. Dante’s gaze followed her, narrowing slightly with fond amusent at how adorably nervous she looked. He moved with quiet grace, settling down on the floor near the window, sitting cross-legged in a perfect lotus position.
She hesitated, then sat beside him, copying his posture as best she could.
The room was filled with soft afternoon light, warm and calm, dust motes floating lazily in the air.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Realization struck her like lightning.
Her eyes widened.
"...Wait," she said slowly, turning her head toward him. "What... exactly are we doing?"
He opened one eye and looked at her, clearly amused. "Couple ditation."
Her jaw dropped.
"M-ditation?" she repeated, mortified.
"Yes," he said simply. "Breathing. Synchronizing. Grounding. Emotional connection." A pause. Then, with a teasing curve of his lips, "What did you think we were doing?"
She imdiately covered her face with both hands. "I—! You—! You said ’couple thing’ and ’now’ and ’I’ll guide you’ and—" She stopped, groaning softly. "I completely misunderstood."
A low, warm laugh rumbled from his chest. "I noticed."
"You did this on purpose," she accused, peeking at him through her fingers.
"Maybe," he admitted, utterly unapologetic. "Your expressions are very entertaining."
She huffed, then slowly lowered her hands, still red as a tomato. "You’re evil."
"Only a little," he replied. "Now... close your eyes."
She did, obeying despite herself.
"Sit straight," he instructed softly. "Relax your shoulders. Breathe in slowly... and out."
She followed, her breathing uneven at first, then gradually calming as his voice guided her.
"Feel the sunlight on your skin," he continued. "Feel the space around you. And then..." His hand gently brushed against hers, their fingers barely touching. "...feel ."
Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.
Their breathing slowly began to match, in and out, quiet and steady. The earlier embarrassnt faded, replaced by a deep, soothing warmth. It felt intimate in a way she hadn’t expected—no rush, no fluster, just closeness.
After a while, she whispered, eyes still closed, "This... actually feels very nice."
"It is," he replied quietly. "aningful doesn’t always an dramatic."
She smiled softly. "I like your kind of aningful."
"And," he added, opening his eyes just enough to look at her, "now you have experience."
She opened her eyes, laughed under her breath. "Next ti, maybe warn first."
"No," he said calmly. "Then I wouldn’t get to see you panic."
She nudged his knee lightly. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re very cute when you misunderstand," he replied.
Alina shot him a look, half warning, half shy disbelief, and he lifted his hands in surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Alright," he said softly, his tone shifting back into calm seriousness. "Let’s focus. Try again. And when I say let go, open your eyes and look into mine. Okay?"
She nodded, trusting him without hesitation, and closed her eyes. He did the sa. The room slipped into a gentle stillness, the sunlight warming their skin, the air quiet except for the slow rhythm of their breathing. Ti softened, stretched, beca unimportant.
Minutes passed. Five, maybe more. It was hard to tell.
"Let go," he said at last.
Alina opened her eyes.
For a mont, the world felt sharper, clearer, as if soone had gently wiped fog from her vision. His crimson gaze t hers, steady and deep, and she felt as though she could see everything in it—depth, patience, warmth, and sothing else beneath it all. The silence between them wasn’t empty. It’s was full of emotions.
He didn’t look away.
"Palm on my hand," he said quietly.
She obeyed, placing her palm against his. His hand was warm, solid, grounding.
"Close your eyes again," he whispered.
She did.
This ti, the darkness was not empty.
It blood.
At first, it was only sensation...soft, gentle, like warmth spreading through her chest. Then it deepened. She felt as though invisible hands were brushing over her, not her body, but sothing deeper, sothing quieter. It felt like being touched at the level of her breath, her thoughts, her heart. Not intrusive. Not overwhelming. Just... tender.
The sensation wrapped around her like an embrace.
She felt held.
Like the way soone holds you when they understand you completely, when there is no need for words. Her chest tightened, emotion rising too fast to stop. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, silent and unrestrained.
It was beautiful.
So beautiful it hurt.
She felt a hug around her—gentle arms, steady and reassuring and instinctively leaned into it, even though she knew they hadn’t moved. It felt like safety. Like ho. Like being seen without being judged.
Her breath trembled.
"I’m here," his voice murmured softly, not breaking the mont, only anchoring it. "You’re doing well."
The tears kept falling, not from sadness, but from sothing overflowing. Relief. Connection. A warmth she hadn’t known she’d been missing until now.
When the sensation slowly faded, she remained still for a long mont, unwilling to let it go. Eventually, she opened her eyes.
He was watching her, concern and quiet wonder mingling in his gaze. Without thinking, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest, her fingers curling lightly into his shirt.
"That was..." her voice broke. She swallowed and tried again. "That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt."
His hand ca up, cradling the back of her head gently. "You opened yourself," he said simply. "That’s why it felt that way."
She laughed softly through her tears. "You could’ve warned I’d cry."
"I wanted you to feel it," he replied. "Not prepare for it."
She stayed there, breathing him in.
And anwhile, Dante fell into deep thought, his gaze distant as the mory of that beautiful sensation lingered within him.
He could still feel it clearly, as if it had only just happened. That intimacy had not been born from touch or closeness alone. It had reached much deeper, slipping past flesh and breath, brushing directly against his soul. He had never experienced anything like that before. It confused him, unsettled him in a quiet way, yet at the sa ti, it awoke sothing dangerously exciting inside his chest.
His thoughts slowly drifted to her.
Alina.
Was she his soulmate?
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