Work Can Wait
Forward he moved a small step.
"…I might forget I have work tomorrow."
Laughter, light as dust, moved through the tall room.
Yet not one pulled away.
Not one.
The grand room at Leon's home shimmered beneath old chandeliers, each one dripping glass that broke the glow into soft pools across plush seating and rich red flooring. Through high arching panes, dusk bled its final gold hues inward, blending with the smell of oiled timber and a hint of night-blooming flowers drifting up from outside. Stillness hung there - thick without being suffocating, charged like breath held too long. As if change waited just beyond sight, already knocking.
There he stood, right in the middle of everything.
Surrounded.
Watched.
Claimed.
A tilt came to Sona's head, strands of silver falling soft across one shoulder, cool blue eyes alight - not loud, just knowing. A hush lived in her gaze, sharp enough to tease without speaking.
