There she is.
There's a catch in my throat, and my heart skips a beat at the sight. My Sophie sleeps peacefully, the slightest of smiles on her face. Her stardust hair glistens in the light of the real stars—and moon—shining through our window.
I approach slowly, wanting so much not to wake her up, and join her. Turning to her sleeping form, I smile softly, running the back of my hand along her face. I can't resist—I blaze a trail of soft kisses down her cheek, all the way to her slightly parted lips. My mouth seems to conform to hers, as I kiss her tenderly.
She moans softly, and bucks ever so slightly. Placing my hand at the back of her neck, I support her head and kiss her again, deeper this time. My other hand finds its way around her waist, and my eyes fill with tears.
She opens her eyes for the first time, and it takes me by surprise when I realize tears are starting to fall from them as well. "Sophie," I whisper, coming in closer to wipe them away, "I love you—I love you so much." Holding her all the closer, I feel her tremble, which gives way to soft sobs. I do everything in my power to calm her, to reassure her of my ever-present love.
Sleep eventually overtakes us, and I just wrap my arms around her and offer one last kiss to her temple. Does she not realize what she has done—introduced something stronger and deeper than any spell the world has ever known—that could make me fall utterly and irreversibly for my girl, for my Sophie?
Yes, maybe love itself has a magic all its own.