The night crept slowly into the old wooden house, which had survived the spiral storm. With every gust of wind, the aged wooden floor creaked softly, as if sharing the ancient stories held within its walls. Only the sound of the wind and the whispers of branches outside accompanied Fitran and Nobuzan. The warm aroma of aged wood enveloped the room, deepening the ambiance of the night. A small oil lamp hung in the corner, casting a dim light over the thin bed, creating gentle dancing shadows. Nobuzan, her belly beginning to swell, sat on the edge of the bed, choosing not to touch the cold wall. Her face looked weary, her eyes clouded with many thoughts, her lips trembling slightly as she held back words.

  Fitran entered slowly, observing his wife. His own body was still marked with scars, but his gaze was fixed on one thing—the woman now hugging her knees in front of him. The air in the room felt heavy, caught between hope and sorrow, as if absorbing all the unspoken words.

  Nobuzan looked down, her soft voice breaking the silence, “Fitran, you know… sometimes I feel like this life is too long, but nights like this always feel too short.” The flickering of the oil lamp, often ignored, became a loud presence amidst the stillness.

  Fitran sat beside her, his hand resting on Nobuzan's shoulder, feeling the tension between them. “Nights will always come to an end, but we can choose how they do. Do you want to talk, or just sit in silence?” His voice was like a whisper, filled with hope that this night wouldn’t end in isolation.

  Nobuzan looked up, her eyes glistening, “Sometimes I want to forget everything, even if just for a moment. All the fears, the bad omens, and the wounds of the world. In the midst of this wooden aroma, I want—at least just once—to feel like this world belongs to us. Not to war, not to monsters or deities.”

  Fitran smiled gently, stroking Nobuzan's hair, “If that’s what you want, I will give you a night without history, without names.”

  Nobuzan took a deep breath, trying to smile. She rested her head against Fitran's chest, feeling his heartbeat, warm amidst the old wounds that hadn’t fully healed. The creaking of the wooden floor beneath them seemed to express the vulnerability of this moment, bringing back memories they didn’t want to forget. The warm scent of aged wood filled the air, wrapping them in a familiar warmth, as if this house was a shield against all the pain outside.

  Nobuzan held Fitran's hand, her voice soft, “I know my body is changing. This child is taking so much from me—but strangely, I feel more inclined to hold you than ever before. Not just for love, but… maybe I need a new reason to keep going.”

  Fitran kissed Nobuzan's forehead, “Your body is still home to me, Nobuzan. Scarred or not, pregnant or not, I still want you, tonight and every night after.”

  Nobuzan closed her eyes, tears falling onto Fitran's chest, “Can I be honest? I want you by my side tonight, completely. I want to forget, even if just for a moment. I want… your body, not just your words.”

  Fitran held his breath, then smiled—there was relief, warmth, and a love that needed no promises. Outside, the wind whispered softly through the cracks in the wooden walls, as if delivering a gentle message to strengthen this moment, while the occasional sound of a night bird buzzed faintly, adding depth to the calm yet emotional atmosphere.

  Fitran brushed Nobuzan's cheek with his thumb, “I won’t refuse you, no matter the reason. I know… sometimes, the only thing that can keep a person sane in this world is a little tenderness.” Around them, the soft creaking of the old wooden floor seemed to echo, as if the house itself felt the rarity of this closeness. The warm, slightly damp aroma of wood filled the air, adding a sense of nostalgia to their hearts.

  They didn’t speak for long. Fitran gently removed the remaining fabric from Nobuzan's shoulder, slowly, respectfully, as if every touch was a request for permission. The soft night breeze flowed through the gaps in the walls, creating a natural melody that complemented the moment. Nobuzan, in turn, responded with a brief kiss on Fitran's lips, allowing her hands to explore her husband’s back and waist. There was a nervousness between them—not from fear, but because such closeness had become too rare amidst the roar of war and anxiety, and the noise from outside seemed to remind them of a world full of pain.

  Nobuzan whispered softly, “Do you remember our first night in Cerza? When the world wasn’t crazy, when I could still laugh without guilt?”

  In this warm house, the wooden walls seemed to hold every laugh and tear they had shared, adding depth to that memory.

  Fitran chuckled softly, “I remember. And I want you to laugh tonight, even if just for a moment. Forget the war, forget the deities, forget everything.” Outside, the sound of light rain began to tap on the roof, a gentle melody inviting a feeling of safety and peace for a while.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Nobuzan leaned against Fitran's chest, letting his arms wrap around her hips, “I want all this pain to go away, Fitran. At least, let me feel like a woman, not just a vessel for your blood.” The warmth of Fitran’s body flowed through their fingertips, while the sound of his heartbeat filled the space between them, marking the life that continued, even amidst the darkness.

  Fitran lifted Nobuzan's chin, looking into her eyes, “You are not a vessel. You are the only one who makes a monster like me want to be human again.” Like a gentle breeze carrying the scent of wood and spices from the kitchen, that declaration brought a deep sense of intimacy, binding their love beneath the flickering light of the oil lamp.

  They lay together, bodies seeking warmth, while the soft creaking of the old wooden floor filled the silence of the night. Nobuzan, though pregnant, still looked so beautiful in Fitran's eyes—and he never hesitated to praise her soft skin, the strength of her fingers, and her gaze. The aroma of aged wood and a hint of spices filled the air, adding depth to the intimate atmosphere. They opened each other's wounds, bandaged them, and found comfort amidst all the chaos.

  Nobuzan stroked Fitran's hair, her voice heavy with honesty, “Sometimes I’m afraid—afraid of losing you, afraid of losing myself. But every time you hold me like this, I believe that at least for one night, the world has no power over us.” As she spoke, the soft wind rustled outside, as if reminding them of the ongoing external turmoil.

  Fitran returned the embrace, “If the world curses this night, so be it. I will fight the whole world for one hour with you.” In that embrace, the warmth from their bodies seemed to reject all the darkness lurking outside the window.

  Their bodies moved together slowly, attentively. There was no rush. Every touch was a dialogue, every breath a plea, while the soft sighs of the creaking wood added depth to the tranquility. Nobuzan allowed Fitran to kiss her neck, caressing her protruding belly, holding her from behind to make her feel completely safe. The pain, anxiety, and fatigue evaporated in the intimacy they created, reserved just for them, in this small space filled with memories.

  Nobuzan looked at Fitran, her eyes glistening, “You know, I’m doing this not just out of desire. I want to prove that I still have control over my life. I want to conquer my fears, Fitran. With you.”

  Around them, the walls of the old wooden house vibrated softly with the night wind, as if listening to the whispers of their hearts. The sound of the wooden floor creaking as they moved added to the deep sense of intimacy, while the warm aroma of aged wood filled the room, enveloping them like a hug.

  Fitran kissed Nobuzan's shoulder, his voice low, “You are always braver than you think. You choose to live, even when everyone else chooses to give up. I’m proud of you.”

  In that silence, the sound of their heartbeats merged with the rustling leaves outside, creating a delicate symphony that only they could understand. The soft light from the oil lamp illuminated the corners of the room, casting dancing shadows, as if the space was filled with hope and longing.

  Nobuzan chuckled softly through her tears, “Isn’t it strange how love can still exist amidst all the destruction?”

  The warmth between them fought against the night’s chill, and outside the window, the sound of the wind swayed the trees, adding to the loneliness gnawing at their souls. Yet, in this room, they found shelter, far from all the sadness lurking outside.

  Slowly, they surrendered to each other. Fitran made sure every movement was gentle, careful not to hurt Nobuzan or the child she carried. He caressed Nobuzan's belly amidst their intimacy, as if to say, “I’m here. I won’t leave.” Nobuzan responded with kisses on Fitran's cheek and chest, allowing herself to feel desired, valued as a woman and as a partner.

  Outside, the sound of light rain began to fall, creating a soft tapping on the wooden roof, completing this beautiful moment with the melody of nature. All of this reminded them that amidst sorrow, there is also beauty that will always be present if they dare to believe in it.

  Fitran whispered a promise in Nobuzan's ear, “I won’t let the world defeat you, or our child. As long as I can stand, I will always return to you.”

  His words echoed in the warm room rich with the scent of wood, adding emotional depth to this confession. Every word spoken seemed to be bound in the layers of history of a home built with love and hope.

  Nobuzan took a deep breath, feeling her whole body relax, “I believe, Fitran. I believe.”

  In this small space, it felt as if the outside world no longer mattered. The creaking of the floor and the gentle vibrations in the air made them feel safe, like a pair of birds nesting on a strong branch. Their love filled the emptiness, making this house not just a shelter, but a place where their souls met in peace.

  After the storm of intimacy passed, they lay facing each other, sweat and tears bearing witness to the quiet night. Around them, the walls of the old wooden house vibrated softly, as if responding to the calm yet emotionally charged rhythm of their heartbeats. Nobuzan smiled through her fatigue, feeling the weight on her chest lighten a little. Outside, the wind whispered gently, caressing the trees and creating a soothing silent melody. Fitran gazed at her face, filled with the tenderness reserved only for someone he truly loved.

  Nobuzan caressed Fitran's cheek, “Thank you for not rejecting me. Thank you for staying here, even when I often worry you.” The creaking wood on the floor seemed to respond to every word spoken, adding depth to this intimate moment. Fitran replied softly, “You are not a burden. You are the reason I endure in this world.”

  Nobuzan closed her eyes, smiling happily, “At least tonight, I can forget for a moment that I am a mother afraid of her own child's future.” The warm, damp aroma of aged wood filled the room, enveloping them in an atmosphere rich with memories and hope.

  The night passed, but the trauma and burdens slowly lightened under the blanket of love and warmth. Fitran and Nobuzan fell asleep in each other's arms, allowing the outside world to freeze behind the wooden walls, listening to the ticking of the old clock in the corner, believing that love, even amidst war, could be the most human escape and healer.