"I couldn't sleep until I wrote this, Han."

Devandra sat on the apartment terrace, accompanied by a cup of iced coffee and the hush of the night. His left hand held a pen, while the paper resting on his lap was already covered in messy black ink. Across from him, Hanz leaned on the doorframe, watching him with a complicated expression.

"You've been sending flowers and short notes to Vania's office for two weeks," Hanz said quietly. "But this... this letter feels different. It's more than ...