RHEIN'S POINT OF VIEW
But after that moment…
A familiar voice cut in, pulling me out of the silence hanging between Justin and me.
"May I dance with the princess?" Dylan's tone was light, teasing, as always.
I blinked, startled. He stood there dressed in white—simple but striking, as though the enchanted lanterns strung across the forest-themed hall had chosen him as their mirror. His presence felt almost unreal, cutting through the heavy air between me and Justin.
My gaze flickered back to Justin, but I couldn't hold his eyes. The weight in them was too much—too raw, too expectant. It was as though every unspoken word, every unanswered confession, lingered in the way he looked at me.
I felt it—the reluctance in the way his hand held onto mine, not tightly, but with a subtle tremor. A silent plea not to let go. And yet, he loosened his fingers, slow and hesitant, as though every second of release cost him something.
The guilt twisted inside me. I wanted to say something, to at least ease the look in his eyes. But nothing came out. My throat closed up, and I could only let Dylan's sudden interruption become the escape I didn't ask for but desperately needed.
"Rhein?" Dylan's voice nudged me back, warm and mischievous, though his eyes scanned me too carefully for it to be mere playfulness.
"I…" My lips parted, but no words followed. The silence between Justin and me stretched thin, fragile. And when I finally forced myself to nod at Dylan, allowing him to take my hand, I caught the smallest flicker in Justin's expression—the shadow of disappointment—before he turned away.
Dylan led me onto the dance floor, his hand steady against mine, his movements easy, confident. The music swelled, weaving around us like a spell, but even then, I could feel it—Justin's gaze. Heavy. Unyielding. Following every step we took.
Dylan must have noticed too, because his lips curved into a sly grin as he leaned down, his words brushing my ear. "So… he confessed to you, didn't he?"
My heart skipped. I looked up at him, startled, but his eyes only glimmered with that infuriating mix of humor and something deeper, something I couldn't place.
"H-how did you—"
"Please." He chuckled softly. "I may joke around, but I'm not blind." His hand tightened just slightly, grounding me. "He told you, didn't he?"
I lowered my gaze, shame biting at me. Slowly, I nodded.
"Then why didn't you answer him?" Dylan's tone dropped, quieter now, less playful, though his smile stayed as if to mask the seriousness behind the question.
I bit my lip, struggling to form the words. "I… I don't know." My voice was small, fragile against the swell of music. "This is the first time someone has ever confessed to me. I didn't know how to react. I just… froze."
For a long moment, Dylan studied me as though he could read more than what I was willing to say. His eyes narrowed, not in disapproval, but in something close to… protectiveness.
And in that moment, I knew he understood—even if I didn't say it aloud—that the truth was simple, almost cruel: I didn't feel anything for Justin.
But still… I couldn't shake the feeling of Justin's eyes lingering from across the room, piercing through every spin, every step Dylan guided me through.
And Dylan, though smiling, seemed to sense it too.
The music swelled through the hall, but suddenly, something shifted. The laughter, the swaying gowns, the shuffling of polished shoes on the marble floor—all of it froze. Dancers halted mid-step, their smiles suspended in air like painted portraits. The only thing that remained alive was the melody itself, still pouring from the unseen orchestra.
And us.
My breath hitched. "Dylan… what did you do?"
His hand was steady against mine, his expression calm but tinged with mischief. "Stopped time," he said simply, as though pausing the world was as casual as fixing a button.
I blinked at him, the silence of the frozen ballroom pressing around us. "Why? Why did you stop the time?"
"I think," he murmured, his voice softer now, "you need to chill first."
He started to loosen his hold on me, gently guiding my hands down as if to give me space, to let me breathe. His movements were careful, deliberate, as though he knew how fragile I felt in that moment.
But something inside me jolted. Before his fingers could slip away, I tightened my grip on his hand.
Dylan stilled. His eyes widened for the briefest moment before a faint, knowing smile curved his lips.
I lowered my head, my breath shuddering out as if the weight of the entire hall had been pressing on my chest until now. My palm pressed against his, and I felt it—warmth. Steady, grounding warmth that seeped into me like light breaking through fog. The unease, the heaviness that Justin's confession had left on me, slowly washed away, replaced by something calmer. Something safe.
For a while, neither of us spoke. The world stood still, but within that stillness, I felt alive. The music cradled us, unhurried, unbroken, and Dylan didn't move away. He just stayed.
Then, like the soft sigh of a dream fading, the song reached its end.
And time resumed.
The ballroom flickered back to life in an instant—laughter resuming, footsteps echoing, gowns twirling once more. None of them realized that time had bent around us, that for the length of a single song, the world had been only ours.
But I did.
And as Dylan's hand remained in mine a heartbeat longer than necessary before letting go, I couldn't help but wonder if he knew just how much that fleeting stillness meant to me.