"These," Mikhailis said quietly, his voice threaded with pride and a soft vulnerability, "are the premium ones. And they're only for my wife."
His words lingered for a moment in the candlelit silence. Elowen felt them like a soft chord in her chest, echoing beyond the dryness of formal discourse. She and Mikhailis often navigated a world where their bond—while recognized—was overshadowed by the constant demands of governance. Here, however, with no one to witness but the dancing candle flames, the intimacy of that word—wife—poured a gentle warmth through her veins.
Her hand hovered over the holographic display, which continued to scroll through the final items. She couldn't quite bring herself to tap any of them yet. Her brows rose slowly as she turned to look at him, reading the sincerity in his eyes. "Your wife?" she repeated softly, as if tasting the texture of the phrase.
