On the thirty-fifth night after their wedding, the moon was full.

Joss was attending a banquet celebrating the northern cavalry's victory.

Gawin stayed home.

He claimed he was tired—
But really, he just didn't like crowded parties.
And especially didn't like watching his husband smile politely at noblewomen, unaware that his heart was still wandering somewhere else.

—

By the time the servants brought Joss home, it was past midnight.
Footsteps staggered slightly.
Honey wine clung to his breath.

He hadn't drunk much—
Just enough to blur the edges of his usual composure.

—

Gawin had been reading.
The moment he heard the door open, he set the book down and slipped on his robe.

"What happened to the Prince?"

"He's... tipsy, but not badly, Your Highness. We were going to help him to—"

"Leave," Gawin cut in softly.
"I'll take care of him."

The servants bowed and left, quietly exchanging glances.

—

Silence.

Gawin stood beside the bed, looking at Joss—
So different now from the crisp, proper image of a prince who buttoned his cuffs to the millimetre.

He sat leaning against a bedpost, hair slightly tousled, cheeks faintly flushed.

He looked... young.
Not royal.

"You don't... have to..." Joss mumbled, voice thick and heavy.

"Shh," Gawin said.
"This isn't duty."

Behind the screen, he soaked a silk cloth in warm water, wrung it gently, then returned.

He wiped Joss's arms, collar, and cheek.

Every motion was soft, almost trembling.

Not from fear.

But because this was the first time he'd ever been this close.

No attendants.
No titles.
Just him—and the man he liked—in a quiet room touched by moonlight.

—

Joss exhaled slowly.
Didn't resist.

Only whispered, words slurring with wine and sleep:

"I'll find him...
The one with those eyes.
Lashes curved like the full moon..."

The wind stirred the palace halls, cool and poetic.

The candlelight flickered.

Joss had fallen asleep.

One hand on his forehead, as usual.
But tonight, he didn't face the wall.

He lay facing inward.

Moonlight spilled over his features—
like someone had scattered dreamdust across his skin.

—

He shifted.

Barely.
But his breath caught, as if even sleep couldn't keep feelings quiet.

Gawin approached slowly.
Just to set the cloth back down.

But then he saw it.

A silver chain had slipped from Joss's nightshirt.
And hanging from it—

A ring.

His ring.
The silver moonstone ring he had lost that night.

—

Time paused.

All sounds vanished, except the thunder in his chest.

"No way...
He's kept it all this time?"

He didn't dare touch it.
Just leaned in closer.

The moonstone glowed faintly.
The letter ก was still etched inside—
A mark Gawin had once assumed no one would notice.

One heartbeat.

"That's my ring.
The one I dropped at the ball.
The one I thought had disappeared along with the goodbye I never said."

He swallowed.

"You kept it?

Even after marrying me...

You're still holding onto the ring from the one who danced with you?"

"You don't know...
That person... was me."

Then Joss whispered.

Eyes still closed.

"The one from that night...
Their gaze pulled me out of everything I was bound to.
I still remember..."

—

Gawin backed away, as if burned.

Hands shaking.
Not from cold.

But from a heart struck too cleanly.

"You still remember.
Still searching.

And I'm right here.

Sleeping three steps away."

—

He sat down, breathing unevenly.

Eyes damp—not from sadness,
But from being too full.

He looked at his palms, bathed in moonlight.

"So you didn't forget.
You just... didn't know.

That's the one you married
was the one you were looking for."

—

He didn't sleep that night.

He sat by the window.
Staring.

At the man who had once held his hand under the stars.

And was still holding his memory—
without knowing he had him already.

Gawin hugged a pillow.
Leaning into the wall.

He smiled.

Then laughed softly, like an exhale.

A laugh full of awe, confusion, and a bit of scandalized joy.

"And here I was thinking I was the only one who remembered..."

A smile of teary disbelief,
relief,
and sheer annoyance that his crush had the audacity to be this romantic in his sleep
while acting like a tax-paying stranger during the day.

—

"Joss," Gawin whispered.
"It's me.
You've found me already.
I just... haven't figured out how to show you who I really am."

—

He didn't say more.

Just rose.
Pulled the blanket over Joss.

Turned down the lights.

The room went still again.
But this time—

It was the silence of two people
who had once touched under moonlight.
And were now inching closer,
even if they hadn't said each other's name yet.