The temperature in the greenhouse was pleasant, with wisps of mist curling between the leaves like a living, breathing veil. At the base of the aquatic plant pots, a circulating water system hummed, the delicate trickling sound clear in the quiet night. Coupled with the wind brushing against the glass dome, it felt as though the entire space was cocooned in a vibrant, eternal spring.
Dinner had concluded. The empty plates were whisked away, and after a perfect interval, Caius served the dessert—pudding. The caramel syrup glowed like amber under the candlelight, and the slight wobble of the surface as the spoon touched it proved the texture was flawless.
The two of them talked and laughed as if nothing had happened. No DNA scandals, no deliberate distancing, no hidden agendas. Just a brot
