—In that it is strange.
—What thing?
Zafir looked at her.
And in those eyes there was something that at first she would never have known how to name.
Now yes.
Contained tenderness.
Devotion without humiliation.
Love without a cage.
—That after spending ten years hiding... —he said— the only place I don't feel the need to do it is with you.
Amira stayed still.
Years ago, a phrase like that would have made her distrustful.
Find the trap.
Count the cost.
But she was no longer the same woman who had gone down a staircase in a diamond salon to choose between three men.
That woman had survived.
This other one... had learned to be chosen too.
—I didn't think I would end up marrying a ghost either —he said, leaning the glass aside.
Sapphire raised an eyebrow.
—How romantic.
—I try my way.
He smiled.
That kind of weird smile that she still felt like a private victory.
Amira raised her hand and brushed her fingertips against the scar on his face.
Not like someone checking a wound.
But like someone who recognizes a map.
—Do you know what was the most dangerous thing about your mask? —whispered.
—That?
She held his gaze.
And this time there was no war.
There were no contracts.
