At night, the private mansion was bathed in soft golden lights. The curtains swayed gently with the breeze, and the kitchen carried the warm aroma of something delicious. Lilith, dressed in a simple white shirt and loose pants, looked effortlessly beautiful...barefoot, hair loosely tied, and a soft hum escaping her lips as she stirred something on the stove.
She was calm, almost glowing, lost in her little world.
But then—
footsteps.
Slow, heavy, familiar.
Before she could turn, two strong arms wrapped around her from behind. His large hands rested against her stomach, holding her close, and his head leaned into the curve of her shoulder. His scent...clean, expensive, unmistakably him washed over her.
He didn't speak.
She didn't either.
She simply stood still, her fingers still holding the spoon, as the warmth of his body slowly sank into hers.
She waited.
Waited for his words.
For questions about what she did to Grandma Bria. For his scolding. For his worry.
