The air in Seraphina's office felt unnervingly heavy, as though the silence itself carried weight. The soft glow of evening light filtering through the tall windows only seemed to sharpen the tension in the room. Bookshelves lined with immaculate order and a faint scent of parchment and ink should have made the space feel studious—but right now, it felt more like a chamber of judgment.
Luca sat quietly in the chair across from her desk, his posture stiff, fingers tapping idly against his knee as though to fill the silence she left hanging. Seraphina, with her usual composure seemingly fractured, reached for a glass of water at her side. He watched in faint surprise as she downed it in one long gulp, her throat bobbing with each swallow. It was rare to see her—so unguarded, so human.
