The morning sky was draped in a gravel-gray blanket of woven clouds.
Nature was being benevolent, allowing living beings to feel the shade in the heat of summer.
Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.
Tiny pearls of water fell in steady succession, soaking the parched ground and breathing life back into the earth.
An enticing scent of petrichor drifted through the air, as if the soil were sharing its joy with the dancing leaves.
The erratic drumming of the rain against the earth created a harmonious melody—the perfect atmosphere to enjoy the scenery from behind a window with a cup of hot cocoa.
Yet, not everyone had the privilege to pause and appreciate this fleeting beauty.
Killian Rhett King was one of those people.
Sitting at the breakfast table with Severine and Alina Hart, he felt as if he were intruding on a date.
The worst part? Alina, the part of the said date, looked smug.
