Ivan and Lydia lay in the bed inside the hidden room behind the library shelf, wrapped tightly in each other's arms. The dim light from a single candle flickered across their skin, casting warm shadows against the old wooden walls. Their bodies were tangled beneath the soft blanket, their breaths slow, skin warm, and hearts calm.
Ivan gently traced his fingers over Lydia's back, while the other hand stayed in her hair, stroking it slowly. Her head rested on his chest, and the soft sound of his heartbeat filled her ears. She lifted her hand and gently touched the scars on his chest, her fingers moving tenderly over each line as if trying to heal them with her touch.
"Ivan," she whispered, her voice so soft it almost melted into the silence.
"Hmm?" he answered, his tone equally soft, warm.
"How did you find this room?"
He sighed, not in sadness, but as someone digging into a memory buried deep.
