"Do I look good today, honey?" Alina asked her dear husband, who was lazily reading a book about war strategies early in the morning.
The morning light was soft and golden, streaming through the tall windows of their chambers. Dust motes danced in the air. Somewhere outside, birds were singing. It was the kind of morning that felt peaceful and unhurried, like the world had decided to slow down just for them.
Dante lifted his eyes from the book.
He was sitting in his favorite chair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his dark hair loose and falling over his brow. He had been reading for the past hour, completely absorbed in whatever battle tactics were described on the yellowed pages.
But now he was looking at her.
