"I will cook your breakfast," Kyle insisted, his voice firm yet gentle, just as Trienne was about to step out of the room.
Yvienna's attention drifted toward him without her realizing it. She studied his face quietly—how exhaustion clung to him no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His hair was slightly disheveled, strands falling messily over his forehead, and faint creases marked his skin where he must have slept with his arm beneath his head. He looked haggard… yet undeniably handsome.
Poor sleep was written all over him, but even so, there was a warmth in his presence that made her chest feel strangely light.
Her heart softened as she watched him speak with her uncle, asking carefully—almost anxiously—what kind of food she should eat to stabilize her health, what would help her recover faster. He listened like every word mattered. To her, it felt as though soft classical music lingered in the air, following the subtle movement of his lips, calming her restless thoughts.
