The night sky shimmered with a thousand golden lanterns as Allen and Shellia walked side by side through the cobblestone path leading back to the Aurora Palace. The faint laughter of townsfolk still echoed from the distance—an echo of warmth that lingered even as the festivities quieted down.
Shellia's hands were clasped in front of her, the soft silk of her gown swaying with each step. "It's been a long day," she said softly, her voice carrying the tired contentment of someone who had truly enjoyed herself. "I never thought the festival could feel this alive."
Allen glanced down at her, his emerald eyes reflecting the lanternlight. "You made it feel alive," he said simply.
Shellia's steps faltered slightly, heat rushing to her cheeks. "You say that too easily."
"Because it's true." His tone was even—neither playful nor teasing, just honest. That made it even harder for her to reply.
