He only appears in my dreams now. The thief we call time has changed him in ways that unsettle me. His hands are rough from years of long, calloused work. His shoulders have broadened. His muscles are still carved with that same quiet strength I once obsessed over. But his eyes… those piercing blue eyes are exactly the same. They look straight through me, as if they still recognise every want I tried so hard to bury. I ha...