Flora sat quietly at the table, her fingers wrapped around a warm cup of evening tea. She took small sips while her eyes were still swollen from crying.
Noticing her daughter's lingering sadness, Samyra reached out gently. "Are you sure everything's alright, Flora?" she asked again, her voice laced with quiet worry.
"Yes, Mom," Flora replied, offering a strained smile, one that barely masked the turmoil within her.
David glanced at her, concern etched into the lines of his face. He sighed. "Amelie still hasn't come to see us," he murmured.
Just then, as if summoned by his words, Amelie's voice floated in from the doorway of the modest sitting room, tucked away in the western quarters of the palace. It was the temporary residence given to her parents during their stay.
"Good evening," Amelie greeted, stepping into the room. Her gaze swept over them with subtle intensity. "Did you all rest well?"
