A Dream

A Dream
Anastasia’s POV

The morning air smells like pine and toast. As usual.

I stir the coffee slowly, watching the golden sunlight crawl over the kitchen counter. Leomord is outside, shirtless, splitting firewood. Every movement of his muscles is clean, precise, like he’s trying to work something out of his body.

Maybe he is. Maybe we both are.

It’s been four days since we escaped. Four days of pretending everything’s fine, even though we still sleep lightly and flinch at unfamiliar footsteps.

I pour two cups and step out onto the porch.

"Break time," I call gently.

Leomord looks up. Sweat glistens along his jawline. He drops the axe and walks over, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

We sit on the porch steps, close but not quite touching.

“Did you sleep okay?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Better than before.”

I want to believe that. I sip my coffee and glance at the empty road ahead of us. This village is quieter than our last one. Fewer people. Fewer risks. But silence can be deceiving.

“I keep thinking we’ll wake up and find them here,” I admit.

He takes a slow breath. “Me too.”

We both stare at the trees beyond the fence. The stillness between us is heavy, but not unbearable. It’s the kind of quiet where nothing needs to be said—yet everything waits beneath the surface.

A breeze carries the scent of cinnamon from the neighbor’s house.

“I’ve been thinking,” Leomord says suddenly.

I look at him.

“I don’t want to keep running forever.”

His words hang in the air. Honest. Bare.

“What do you want, then?” I whisper.

He turns to me, eyes steady. “A life. With you. Somewhere they can’t reach us.”

I feel my throat tighten. “That sounds like a dream.”

He reaches for my hand. “Then let’s make it real.”

~

Later that afternoon, we take a walk into the nearby town. Just a few blocks of old brick buildings and flower shops, but it feels like stepping into another life.

We eat at a tiny café with fairy lights strung above the tables. The food is simple, grilled chicken, warm bread, and berry juice, but Leomord eats like it’s the best meal he’s had in years.

Halfway through dinner, he surprises me by smiling.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

I blink. “No. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

He chuckles, reaches across the table, and brushes his fingers against mine. For a second, everything else disappears.

Afterward, we wander into the park. The trees are lit up with lanterns. Children chase fireflies. It feels like something out of a forgotten dream.

Leomord pulls me to a stop under one of the glowing trees. “Dance with me.”

“There’s no music.”

“We don’t need any.”

So we sway, slowly, to the rhythm of our hearts. His hands are warm, steady. I rest my head against his chest, and all the chaos inside me softens.

“I love you,” I whisper.

His arms tighten. “I’d give up everything just to keep you safe.”

I pull back, looking into his eyes. “Then let’s stop waiting for danger to find us.”

He nods.

That night, as we lie beneath warm blankets and soft breathing, a decision blooms silently between us.

Tomorrow, we start over, for real this time.

~

We walk back home in silence, fingers still intertwined, his thumb brushing small, thoughtful circles over my skin. The wind carries the scent of old leaves and the distant tang of rain, and I know—this moment will stay with me forever.

Back inside, the house is dim and quiet. Grandma and Maria are already asleep, the television a faint hum in the other room. Leomord and I tiptoe into the kitchen, his hand never leaving mine.

“I’m not sleepy,” I whisper.

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Me neither.”

We settle on the living room floor with a soft blanket, the lights low and the silence comforting. He leans against the couch, pulling me close until I’m nestled between his legs, my back to his chest.

“What do you think it would’ve been like?” I ask quietly. “If we’d never met in the city... if I hadn’t come into your world at all?”

He exhales slowly. “Lonely. Probably darker. I wouldn’t have known what love felt like.”

I twist to look at him. “You didn’t believe in love before?”

“I didn’t even believe in myself.”

The answer stirs something in me. I turn and place my hand over his heart. “But you do now?”

He looks down at where my fingers rest. “I do. Because of you.”

The clock ticks softly above us. Outside, thunder rolls gently, far away. Rain begins to fall, slow and rhythmic. I lean my head back on his shoulder and we sit there, just listening to the downpour, like the world is washing itself clean.

“I want to build a life with you,” he says suddenly. “Something ordinary. Something soft.”

I nod, throat tight. “Me too.”

“Even if we’re not always safe?”

I look up at him. “We’ve never been safe, Leomord. But we’ve always been together.”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then lingers at my lips, his breath warm. “Stay with me. Even when it’s hard. Even when I screw things up.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.

The rain comes down harder. I smile and get up, tugging his hand. “Come on.”

He blinks. “Where are we going?”

I pull him toward the back porch, barefoot and giggling like a child. “To dance.”

He laughs under his breath but follows. We step outside into the rain. The ground is slick, the air cool, and everything smells like wet earth and summer. I twirl beneath the storm, my hair sticking to my face. He watches me, his expression unreadable, then joins me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

There’s no music. Just us. The rain. The beating of our hearts.

I close my eyes and let it all in, the softness, the madness, the peace that feels like a gift after everything we’ve endured.

And in his arms, soaked and breathless, I realize this is what survival feels like.

Not just running.

But living. Existing.

Together.