A pang of sorrow tugged at Waylen’s heart.

He longed to whisk Rena, now 20, away, as if he could possess two versions of her.

One mature and refined.

The other youthful and naive.

The very notion was almost unbearable to contemplate.

His head dipped, lips pressing against her forehead, a murmur escaping his lips.

“We’ll be together, Rena.

Trust me.

streaming through the window and casting a warm

flawless, her brows elegantly arched, and her chestnut locks

like those of a newborn animal, held a tremor as she spoke

“I trust you.

stood at 20, this relationship had been akin to an unexpected afternoon

its downpour, yet upon her first step into this apartment, an inexplicable sense of familiarity had overtaken

Waylen’s appearance by her side, that day on campus merely a serendipitous

emotions, unwavering in her desire

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parents—such considerations had been forgotten, cast aside in the fervor of her hastily

fragility and vulnerability, a hint of grievance lingered, but Waylen’s silent presence assured

her back to reality,

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