Chapter 156: The Language of Love
Eva had grown bolder in her affection.
She was used to how Seraphina's perfume smelled — like pale orchids and frostbitten tea leaves. She was used to the way her voice dipped low when speaking only to her. She knew which side Seraphina liked to be hugged from, and which finger she tapped when thinking.
And Seraphina let her learn.
Eva liked to kiss her now. On the lips — just a peck closer to the lips sometimes — never without permission, and Eva was too shy for that. But she'd lean in suddenly, pressing her soft mouth to Seraphina's cheek, or nose, or even her neck, especially when she was feeling spoiled.
Seraphina would raise a brow and murmur, "Again?" with an amused smile.
And Eva would nod, cheeks red but eyes determined.
"I like you," she'd say simply. "A lot."
"I know, little moonbeam."
"You won't leave, right?"
"Not unless you want me to."
The moments when they were alone had become Eva's favorite — no matter where in the vast Maison de Corcelle, whether perched in the corner of the sunlit library or curled on the soft velvet chaise in the blue sitting room. Here, Eva's boldness blossomed into little demands, soft but firm, and Seraphina melted for them every time.
"Hold my hand," Eva would say, sliding her small palm insistently into Seraphina's larger one.
"Only if you promise to share your stories with me," Seraphina teased.
Eva's grin was mischievous and a little spoiled. "Deal."
Sometimes, when Seraphina leaned down to brush a stray lock of hair behind Eva's ear, Eva caught her wrist gently and pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her hand, her eyes half - lidded with satisfaction.
When Eva felt particularly spoiled, she'd whisper against Seraphina's skin, "Stay here. Don't move."
And Seraphina, always indulgent, would settle beside her quietly, knowing well that these were the moments Eva cherished most — when she could simply be little, vulnerable, and adored.
Eva's world was a tapestry woven with the threads of her affection for Seraphina. Each day, she found new ways to express her love, her admiration, her devotion. Words, gestures, and glances became her tools, painting a vivid picture of her heart.
One afternoon, as the golden sunlight filtered through the lace curtains, Eva sat at her small desk, pen in hand. She was composing a poem — a L•••• poem — for Seraphina. Her tongue peeked out slightly as she concentrated, the tip of her pen tapping rhythmically against the paper.
She whispered the words as she wrote, her voice soft and melodic:
Amor meus, lux mea, vita mea.
Te in silentio quaero, sicut stellae noctem.
Cum manum tuam teneo, mundus fit quietus,
Et timores mei solvuntur sicut ros ad auroram.
In oculis tuis, caelum invenio.
Lucet anima tua sicut templum ignis puri.
Verba tua, venti dulces super mare cordis,
Et in tuo aspectu, obliviscor tristitiam.
In risu tuo, sol oriens est.
Mane fit sacrum cum audiam te ridere.
In sono illo, spes renascitur tacita,
Et dies, etiam longus, levatur in lumine tuo.
In te, omnia mea sunt.
Tu es initium, tu es finis sine fine.
Cum te amo, amo totum quod fui et ero,
Et cor meum cantat: semper tuus, sine dubio.
My love, my light, my life.
I seek you in silence, like stars seek the night.
When I hold your hand, the world grows still,
And my fears dissolve like dew at dawn.
In your eyes, I find heaven.
Your soul shines like a temple of pure fire.
Your words are sweet winds upon the sea of the heart,
And in your gaze, I forget sorrow.
In your laughter, the sun is rising.
Morning becomes sacred when I hear you laugh.
In that sound, quiet hope is reborn,
And even the longest day lifts in your light.
In you, all of me resides.
You are the beginning, the endless end.
When I love you, I love all I was and will be,
And my heart sings: forever yours, without doubt.
She paused, reading over her work, then smiled. It was perfect.
Later that evening, she approached Seraphina, the folded paper clutched tightly in her hand.
"For you," she said, offering the poem.
Seraphina took it, unfolding the paper carefully. As she read, her eyes softened, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
"You wrote this for me?"
Eva nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink. "Yes. Do you like it?"
Seraphina reached out, pulling Eva into a warm embrace. "I love it. Thank you, my little poet."
Encouraged by Seraphina's response, Eva began to incorporate more F••••• into their conversations, delighting in the way the words flowed from her lips.
"Tu es mon monde," (You are my world), she would say, her voice filled with sincerity.
Seraphina would chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from Eva's face. "And you, my dear, are mine."
Their bond grew stronger with each passing day, a connection forged through shared moments and whispered words. Eva's affection was pure, untainted by the complexities of adulthood. It was the love of a child — innocent, unwavering, and all-encompassing.
Sometimes, when Seraphina was engrossed in a book or arranging flowers in the grand hall, Eva would sneak up behind her and place small, impish kisses along her neck, smiling when Seraphina shivered softly but never turned away.
"Eva!" Seraphina would laugh, but the smile never left her lips. "You're insatiable today."
Eva's eyes sparkled. "I just like you."
And Seraphina, with a gentle sigh, would catch Eva's hand and press it against her cheek.
One evening, as they sat together by the fireplace, Eva nestled against Seraphina's side, her head resting on her shoulder.
"Tell me a story," she murmured.
Seraphina smiled, wrapping an arm around Eva. "What kind of story?"
"A love story."
Seraphina considered for a moment, then began, her voice low and soothing.
"Once upon a time, there was a little girl who loved a girl with all her heart. She showed her love through words and poems, through kisses on the cheek and whispered declarations. And the girl, she cherished the little girl, holding her close and promising never to leave."
Eva listened intently, her eyes shining.
"Did they live happily ever after?" she asked.
Seraphina pressed a kiss to Eva's forehead. "Yes, my moonbeam. They did."
As the flames danced in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room, Eva felt a sense of peace settle over her. In Seraphina's arms, she had found her home, her heart, her everything.
And she knew, without a doubt, that their story was just beginning