Alan
The manor was unusually silent after Susan had retired to her quarters, the heavy velvet curtains drawn, muffling the distant hum of the city.
For the first time in weeks, Cyril and I were alone in the house, and the absence of prying eyes and whispered rumors made the air between us thick with unspoken tension.
Cyril walked beside me as we moved through the hall, her hand brushing lightly against mine whenever our paths crossed.
Each contact was a spark, a reminder of the invisible tether that pulled us together no matter how much we tried to resist.
We settled into the living room, the fire casting a soft glow over the polished wood and leather furniture.
Cyril took a seat on the couch, and I sank into the armchair opposite her, both of us aware of the delicate space we wer
