Night.
Seconoria.
**************
Theodore sat on the edge of his bed, a single candle flickering on the bedside table casting a warm, golden glow around the room. The soft, inviting warmth of the room contrasted with the cool evening air outside. A smile played on his lips as he carefully penned the words of a love letter, each stroke of the quill imbued with his deep affection for Freya. His heart felt full, almost bursting with the emotions he struggled to contain.
"My dearest Freya," he wrote, the ink flowing smoothly on the parchment, "Every moment with you is a treasure I hold dear. But every moment without you is like..."
As he continued, Theodore's smile broadened. He imagined the look on Freya's face when she read his words, her eyes lighting up with the same love and affection he felt for her. The thought filled him with joy and hope for their future.