Sasha stood still, her words cutting through the silence between them like the wind before a storm. Not loud. Not cruel. Just true.
He took a deep, heavy breath and then walked slowly to the table where her gloves lay like an offering. He didn't touch them. He just stood across from her, close but not crowding.
"You're not drowning," he said quietly. "You're learning to breathe in a new current."
Aylin blinked, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. He wasn't trying to fix her. He wasn't even trying to convince her. He was recognizing her.
"I was raised for this," he admitted. "But not in the way you think. I was raised to wear the crown, yes, but not to share the weight of it. No one taught me that part, either."
She studied him, uncertain.
"I've led armies," he continued, "silenced courts, and killed for peace that never lasted. But this?" He gestured between them. "This is the first time I've had to learn someone else's language."
