Chapter 62: The Space Between Us
The days seemed to grow longer as the seasons shifted, and the bond between Eva and Seraphina deepened. Eva, now four years old, was no longer the quiet, shy child she had once been. She was curious, playful, and very much herself—unapologetically. She demanded attention and affection without hesitation, and Seraphina, ever the willing recipient, never denied her.
From that day on, Seraphina became Eva's favorite place.
Whenever Eva managed to sneak away from the watchful eyes of her parents or was escorted politely by a chauffeur with the excuse of "fostering neighborly connections," she would always find Seraphina somewhere in her home. It was like a game for them, a dance where Eva would weave in and out of the adult world, slipping away to her sanctuary—the place where she felt safe, loved, and most importantly, free to be exactly who she was.
Most often, Eva would find Seraphina lounging on a balcony, her long, auburn hair flowing loosely in the soft breeze as she read a book, her eyes half-closed in peaceful relaxation. Or, on days when the weather was warmer, Eva would find her in the garden, kneeling down in the flowerbeds, her hands moving gracefully as she pruned or watered the plants. There was something about the way Seraphina moved, the way she existed in the world, that drew Eva in like a magnet.
And when she found her, Seraphina would always welcome her with that soft, knowing smile, one that seemed to bend her lips just a little more when Eva clung to her leg, or tugged at her dress, demanding she tie her ribbon. It was as though Seraphina existed only for Eva in those moments—her entire world folding into the small space between them.
Eva was spoiled, yes. She didn't always get her way with her parents, but Seraphina… Seraphina indulged her completely. She allowed Eva to climb onto her lap uninvited, press soft, innocent kisses to her cheek, and curl up against her chest with a sleepy sigh, her tiny body fitting perfectly into Seraphina's embrace. And Seraphina, always, always let her.
Always.
Eva, in her youth, had no real understanding of what her actions meant—no true concept of boundaries or consequences. To her, Seraphina was simply a safe harbor, a warm, comforting presence in a world that often felt too big for her. But Seraphina… Seraphina felt the weight of those moments. She understood what it meant when Eva snuggled close, the soft sounds of her breathing, the weight of her small body against hers.
There was a part of Seraphina that reveled in it, a part that adored the innocence of Eva's love, even if it stirred something deeper within her. But Seraphina, mature and measured, knew well the difference between innocent affection and something more complicated. What she felt for Eva was undeniable, but she also knew it was a love that must remain unspoken, carefully hidden behind smiles and whispered words. Eva was a child, after all, and Seraphina refused to let her feelings complicate the purity of their bond. She would indulge Eva, yes, but she would not cross the line.
"Why do you like me, little one?" Seraphina had asked one afternoon, as they sat on the balcony together, the sunlight casting soft shadows across the stone railing. She absently ran her fingers through Eva's unruly curls as the girl settled against her, her tiny hands playing with the hem of Seraphina's dress.
Eva blinked up at her sleepily, her eyes heavy with the promise of dreams. "Because you smell nice and don't lie," she mumbled, her voice still thick with the remnants of sleep.
Seraphina had smiled at that, a soft, almost sad smile. "And what do I smell like?"
Eva didn't hesitate. She had learned to see the world in colors and smells that others often missed, her innocent observations always laced with a hint of mystery. "Snow and flowers," she whispered, her voice as delicate as the breeze that fluttered around them. "And secrets."
Seraphina's heart tightened in her chest at the sweetness of it. She pressed a kiss to Eva's temple, brushing her lips against the soft skin. "Only for you, Eva," she whispered back, her voice barely audible as she held the child closer.
Eva smiled, closing her eyes as she nestled into Seraphina's chest, her tiny hand curled into a fist against the fabric of Seraphina's dress. There was no need for words between them. In those moments, nothing else existed but the warmth of each other's presence.
But Seraphina… Seraphina couldn't ignore the shift in her heart, the way it clenched every time Eva looked at her with those innocent eyes, eyes that seemed to pierce through to the very core of her being. Eva, in her untainted innocence, had no idea what she was stirring in Seraphina. She had no idea how her actions, her simple gestures of affection, had planted seeds in Seraphina's heart—seeds that would never fully bloom but would always remain. Seeds of something deeper, something more.
Still, Seraphina pushed those thoughts aside. She knew better than to entertain them. She would always be the one to protect Eva, to ensure that the child remained unburdened by the complexities of the world. She would be the one to shield her, even if it meant hiding her own feelings.
As the days passed, Eva's visits became more frequent. Every time she appeared at Seraphina's door, Seraphina would greet her with a smile, as though nothing had changed, as though she hadn't spent the entire day wondering what it would be like if things were different—if the bond between them could be something more than just innocent affection. But she never allowed herself to indulge in those thoughts.
Eva was still so young—too young to understand the gravity of emotions like love and longing.
And Seraphina was content to simply bask in the moments they shared, letting Eva be a child, letting her indulge in her whims without restraint. Eva would climb onto her lap and curl up in her arms, pressing soft kisses to Seraphina's cheek, and Seraphina would simply hold her, her heart full of both love and restraint.
Sometimes, when the days grew long and the air felt heavy with the promise of change, Seraphina would wonder how long she could continue to keep her feelings buried. How long she could let Eva live in the bubble of innocence that Seraphina had created for her. She knew it wouldn't last forever. One day, Eva would grow older, and their relationship would shift. She would come to understand the difference between affection and desire, between innocence and the complicated emotions that were bound to stir in both of them.
But for now, Seraphina would simply hold onto the moments they had—those precious, fleeting moments when Eva was still small and untainted by the world.
And when Eva smiled up at her, when she pressed her tiny face into Seraphina's chest and whispered "I like you" with all the innocence of a child, Seraphina would respond, her voice thick with emotion.
"I like you too, Eva. Always."
Eva's giggle would fill the room, light and carefree, and Seraphina would smile, her heart both heavy and full. For she knew, in those moments, that she would carry the weight of this love—this unspoken, hidden love—for as long as it took to protect Eva from the world.
And that, for now, was enough.