Before there was love, there was almost.
Almost a glance.
Almost a word.
Almost something real.
Nelea didn't believe in soulmates. Not really. She believed in timing, in effort, in the quiet language of those who chose to stay.
Yazid… he wasn't the kind of man who arrived loudly.
He arrived like a slow tide — unnoticed at first, until she realized she was already standing knee-deep.
This wasn't the kind of story that started with fate.
It started with almost.
And ended with a question.
But in between?
It flickered.