The quiet of the afternoon wrapped around the imperial chamber like a soft veil. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting golden lines across the marble floor and the silken sheets where Shellia sat, still half-drowsy from her nap. Allen sat beside her, his long silver hair catching the light, emerald eyes fixed on her with a gaze so intense it felt like it could pierce through her soul.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sound came from the rustling of curtains and the faint chirping of birds outside. Shellia could feel his eyes on her—calm yet unreadable, like he was studying every small detail of her face, every flicker of breath she took. It was strange. Allen had always been composed, reserved, the embodiment of a perfect emperor. But today… his silence carried a weight she couldn't quite explain.
Finally, she frowned softly. "Al, why are you staring at me like that?"
