-Ronan's Hale:
I left Lucien standing there, feeling oddly unsettled. It wasn't just what he said last night—it was the way he looked at me, the way he moved, the way his words stuck in my head long after he was gone. I hated it. It irritated me.
I was still scowling at myself as I stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the sun filtering through the windows, filling the room with a soft glow.
The scent of toasted bread and something faintly sweet lingered in the air, a reminder that Lucien had been here earlier, cooking breakfast like he always did.
Elara was already sitting at the table, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the wooden surface. She looked up when she saw me, her green eyes flickering with something I couldn't quite place. Nervousness? Hesitation?
"Hey," she greeted softly.
