A Glimpse of Light

The city that night hummed with a different rhythm, a softer melody Elias seemed to conduct. He’d pulled me away from the usual cacophony of sirens and hushed threats, from the sterile gleam of my penthouse and the ever-present scent of stale power. Instead, we found ourselves on a pier, the salty air kissing my cheeks, a stark contrast to the recycled, perfumed air I usually breathed. The moon, a sliver of silver against the velvet sky, cast a hazy glow on the water, turning the distant city lights into a shimmering mirage.

“You never told me you liked the water,” Elias murmured, his voice a low rumble beside me. He hadn’t touched me, not since we’d left the sterile confines of my life, but the space between us thrummed with an awareness that was more intimate than any embrace.

I shrugged, a gesture that felt foreign, almost shy. “I don’t. Not usually.” The water, to me, had always been a barrier, a place where things could be lost, or worse, hidden. But tonight, under the vast expanse of stars, it felt… peaceful. Untouched.