Lord Emerson’s POV
I couldn't explain why I was sharing such information with her; usually, I could have just told her what I studied instead of letting her know that I was an artist. I couldn't explain this feeling of wanting to know her and wanting her to know me.
"Do you still paint?” She threw that question, and I was silent for a moment, but eventually nodded. “Yes, but just as a hobby,” I responded, and she smiled at me. “Will you give me the privilege of seeing one of your works?” She pleaded, and I nodded.
Silence filled the air as we pondered in thoughts. I looked at her and could sense the warmth around her. There was this feeling of comfort I had whenever I was close to her. She seemed like a breath of fresh air; her presence was comforting, and I could be with her for the en
