“Y-Young master, wh-what are you—”

  Her words stumbled and trailed off. The moment was broken not by force, but by the sudden closeness between us, a quiet intimacy that left both of us frozen for a heartbeat.

  I leaned in and pressed my lips softly against hers.

  For a brief moment, Susan froze entirely. Her eyes widened in pure shock, and her fingers instinctively clutched at my sleeves. She had never experienced anything like this. Her first kiss had arrived without warning, leaving her stunned and utterly confused.

  When I pulled back slightly, our faces remained only inches apart. Her cheeks burned a vivid crimson, and I could see her small chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I…” she began, voice barely a whisper, “I—don’t…”

  I placed a reassuring hand lightly over hers. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  Susan’s lips trembled. She had grown up sheltered, her world a simple one of chores, siblings, and her mother’s quiet guidance. Matters of the heart had been confined to stories she had read in borrowed novels—tales of young nobles and gentle girls falling in love, stories she had imagined but never truly believed could happen to her.

  And now, she found herself living a scene remarkably similar, one that felt unreal and overwhelming all at once.

  “I… I don’t know what to do…” she admitted, her voice shaking.

  Her honesty struck me. Susan was completely unguarded, innocent to the point of fragility. Her reactions were instinctive, genuine, unshaped by experience or expectation. She was unsure of what she felt, yet she had not recoiled—she had not turned away.

  Encouraged, I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She shivered—not from the cold, but from the closeness, from the unexpected warmth of the gesture.

  “You didn’t dislike it,” I said softly, watching her carefully.

  Susan hesitated. Her breath caught as her lips parted, the faintest nod escaping her. “…No,” she admitted quietly.

  Her voice, small and hesitant, carried more meaning than a hundred rehearsed words. It was an acknowledgment of curiosity, of emotions she had never allowed herself to explore.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I leaned in again, but deliberately slowed my approach this time, allowing her the space to pull back if she wished. She didn’t. Her lips were hesitant at first, unsure how to respond. Her hands clutched at my shirt, as if grounding herself in something solid while navigating these new feelings.

  After several heartbeats, I withdrew again.

  Susan’s breathing had grown uneven, and her eyes were wide and dazed. Her cheeks were still flushed, her fingers fidgeting nervously as if unsure how to release the tension building in her small frame.

  “Edric…” she whispered softly, almost as if testing the sound of my name on her lips.

  “Yes?” I replied, meeting her gaze steadily.

  “This… this is wrong… isn’t it?” Her voice trembled, not from fear, but from the confusing rush of emotions she had never experienced before.

  I studied her expression carefully. She was timid, sheltered, and easily overwhelmed. If I pushed too far, she would follow, but it would not be because she was ready. That would make the moment hollow, meaningless.

  Instead, I smiled gently, placing a soft hand on her shoulder. “You’re thinking too much.”

  Susan blinked up at me, her wide eyes reflecting uncertainty and a glimmer of curiosity.

  “You don’t need to know everything right now,” I continued. “Just… pay attention to how you feel.”

  Her lips parted slightly, and a faint blush spread across her cheeks. It was not just embarrassment—it was the thrill of something new, something stirring quietly in her heart.

  Before she could respond, hurried footsteps approached.

  “Cousin?” Julian’s voice rang out, curious and innocent. “Susan? Are you alright? What are you doing?”

  Susan jumped slightly, startled. She quickly stepped back from me, her face flushed even deeper.

  “We—we just tripped!” she stammered.

  Julian tilted his head suspiciously but nodded. “Oh. Then I’ll go practice!” He scampered away again, leaving us in silence.

  Susan’s hands fell to her sides, and she covered her face briefly with both palms. “I can’t believe this…” she muttered, her voice soft and almost apologetic.

  I smiled faintly. “You should rest for a moment. You look like you might faint from overthinking.”

  She peeked at me through her fingers, her eyes wide. “Are you… angry?”

  “Why would I be?” I asked lightly.

  “Because I don’t know what I’m doing…” Her words were honest, almost painfully so.

  I stepped closer—but stopped at a respectful distance, careful not to overwhelm her. “You don’t need to know everything right now. Just… trust yourself.”

  Susan slowly lowered her hands, her breath gradually returning to normal. “Edric… does this mean you…?”

  Her question trailed off.

  I leaned down slightly so our eyes met evenly. “It means I find you… interesting.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Not a confession, not a promise—just enough to leave her restless and curious, questioning the fluttering feelings she didn’t understand.

  She nodded slowly, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. “I—I’ll prepare lunch,” she said quickly, using a practical excuse to escape her own thoughts.

  “Take your time,” I replied.

  As she hurried away, I watched her retreating figure thoughtfully. Susan Frost was timid, inexperienced, and easily flustered. But beneath that innocence—there was curiosity, intelligence, and a subtle spark of courage. Curiosity, once awakened, is difficult to quiet.

  And I had a feeling this was only the beginning.