Luna's room was wrapped in a gentle calm, barely illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the ivory curtains. The fire in the fireplace crackled slowly, casting golden reflections on the carved stone walls. Outside, night stretched silently, barely interrupted by the whisper of wind through the castle gardens.
Luna was reclining on the divan by the window, with an open book on her lap and her fingers toying distractedly across the page. She wasn't reading. Her mind was far away, reviewing every glance, every gesture, every silence she had noticed in recent days.
Her other hand rested on her belly, where the subtle curve was beginning to become visible. She caressed slowly, as if that contact anchored her to reality.
Damian entered without making a sound, his step confident but relaxed. He still wore his training jacket, the smell of earth and wood mixing with the masculine perfume that always enveloped her. Seeing her so lost in thought, he smiled slightly and approached.
