Elena reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his hand. “Love isn’t a cage, Andrei. It’s the door being wide open and choosing to stay anyway. That song... it says jealousy is part of the package, but it shouldn’t be the whole gift.”
As the music transitioned into a more upbeat rhythm from the , Andrei felt the tension break. He realized that his fear was a distorted tribute to her importance in his life. He didn’t need to guard her; he just needed to cherish her. Elena reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his hand
The air in the small Transylvanian village was thick with the scent of blooming lindens and the distant, rhythmic thrum of a contrabass. It was the night of the summer festival, and voice drifted from the town square, singing the bittersweet lines of his latest hit, "Gelozia face parte din iubire." That song
“The silence. The way you look at everyone like they’re trying to steal the sun from the sky.” He didn’t need to guard her; he just needed to cherish her
“I can’t help it,” Andrei admitted, his voice barely audible over the accordion. “It’s because I know how lucky I am. The fear of losing you feels just as strong as the joy of having you.”
Under the amber glow of the festival lights, they moved together—not out of obligation or possession, but because the music was too beautiful to stand still.
Andrei looked at the ground, then back at the stage where Ghita was pouring his soul into the lyrics: Jealousy is part of love.