The corridor stretches before us, white and sterile, smelling faintly of antiseptic. I barely notice any of it. All I can feel is the warmth of his palm against mine, the slight pressure of his grip, the way he holds me like I'm something precious.
The silver rings on our fingers catch the fluorescent light, winking with every step. Small declarations of everything we've become. Evidence of promises made in quiet moments.
A soft smile plays on my lips, but beneath it, my heart hammers against my ribs. My palms are sweating. My feet feel heavy, each step an effort.
We stop in front of Mr. David's room. Deniz's hand reaches for the handle.
"Deniz."
He turns to me immediately, his dark eyes soft and questioning.
"What is it?"
I bite my lower lip, the words tumbling out in a rush before I can stop them.
"Please—look at me. From head to toe. Do I look perfect? Is everything okay? My hair, my clothes, my—"
