The silver box stayed in her mind all through the night.
It had been small, no bigger than her palm, yet it had weight to it — not just physical, but something else. The engraved swirls along its surface seemed to shift if she looked at them too long, almost like they were moving.
Marcus had brushed it off, but the way his eyes had lingered on her when she held it… that told a different story.
She woke the next morning with the box still tugging at her thoughts — and Marcus still holding her close.
His arm was heavy across her waist, his breath warm on her neck. He was awake; she could feel the slight change in his breathing, the deliberate stillness of him.
"You're thinking too hard," he murmured against her hair.
"Maybe," she said softly.
He kissed the spot just below her ear, slow and lingering. "Then let me help you think about something else."
Before she could reply, his hand moved over her stomach, pulling her back against him. His lips trailed from her shoulder to her jaw, each kiss unhurried, deliberate. She turned in his arms, and he met her gaze — the kind of look that felt like gravity pulling her in.
When he kissed her, it wasn't just affection; it was an answer to a question she hadn't dared to ask. His hands framed her face, then slid down her sides, grounding her in the present moment. She wasn't in some impossible life. She wasn't caught between realities. She was here, with him.
The kiss deepened until she was breathless, and when they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his.
"You're making it hard to think about anything else," she admitted, voice low.
"That's the idea," he said with a smile, before pulling her into another slow kiss.
The day moved in fits and starts. Marcus went about his work in the home office, while Elena pretended to focus on her laptop at the dining table. Every time he walked past, his hand brushed her shoulder, or his fingers trailed along her back — little touches that kept her heart racing.
In the afternoon, she found herself in the living room again, staring at the sideboard. The silver box was gone.
She searched the drawers, the shelves, even the cupboard, but it had vanished.
"Elena?"
She spun around. Marcus stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, but his eyes were sharper than his posture suggested.
"Looking for something?" he asked.
She hesitated. "The box. I… I wanted to look at it again."
His gaze didn't leave hers. "It's not important."
Her pulse ticked up. "It felt important."
He crossed the room slowly until he was standing in front of her. Then he cupped her chin gently, tilting her face up to his. "The only thing that's important right now," he said quietly, "is us."
Before she could answer, he kissed her — not softly this time, but with a heat that scattered her thoughts. She clutched at his sweater, feeling the steady beat of his heart through the fabric. His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
When they finally parted, she was dizzy.
"I love you, Elena," he said, voice low and certain.
She didn't know which part of her life was real anymore. But in that moment, she wanted to believe him.