They entered their room. Stephanie dismissed the servants and locked the door. Arsalan wandered around the living room as if he were staring at a strange land. A lot had changed from what he remembered. "Do you like it?" Stephanie hummed behind him, already caging his chest with his hands. "It was Parisa's idea. She took care of it while I came to fetch you."
"It's nice and homely," Arsalan was trapped by the portrait on the wall. He did not recall posing for a painting. "They got the colour of my scarf wrong," he said.
"How so? Naaah, it's the right colour. This is what it looks like when you return from the arena, dusty and brown. Hehe, it's scary."
"Is that so?" Arsalan veered.
"Uhuh," his lady did not shy away from him. "But I like it. What I see when I look at it is a man trying
