Minho

A huge bonfire burned in the center of the Glade. The boys were celebrating the end of another day: mugs of Gally's strong drink flowed, loud laughter could be heard, and someone danced to the rhythmic beat of drums.

But Minho was in no mood for fun.

It all started earlier in the day. Returning from a grueling run, Minho saw Mia by the plantations. She was chatting cheerfully with one of the boys, laughing loudly. When Mia lightly touched his shoulder, something in Minho's chest tightened painfully. His usual confidence instantly vanished, giving way to a burning annoyance. He said nothing and avoided running into her for the rest of the day.

Now Minho sat in the shade on a fallen log at the edge of the forest. He was afraid to admit to himself how deeply Miya had sunk into his soul. And seeing her attention directed at someone else was a difficult test.

The faint rustle of the grass made him flinch. Minho didn't need to turn around to know who was approaching—he would have recognized that light tread among a thousand.

Mia walked straight toward him. As she approached, she left only a few steps between them and simply looked at him—without mockery, but with warm tenderness.

Minho exhaled heavily, unable to bear that gaze, and took a step towards her.

"Why are you here alone, Minho?" Mia asked quietly, bowing her head slightly. "Everyone's dancing there. Even Gally's trying to mimic something like dancing."

"Not pulling my weight," Minho muttered, trying to regain his usual cheeky grin, but it came out forced. "Someone has to make sure you don't burn the Glade to the ground."

"I saw the way you looked at me this day," she whispered, looking up at him. "And you're a fool if you think I'm interested in anyone else."

Mia took his hand and pulled him toward the fire. Once they were standing near the fire among the crowd, Minho pulled her close and smiled.

• If I dance, it will only be with you, my love.