Elara’s POV
As we resume walking, his whole posture is different. He’s walking more slowly now, his arm around my waist as he points out various shops and landmarks with growing excitement.
“Here we are,” he says eventually, stopping in front of a small inn with faded paint and narrow windows. “It’s not the fanciest place in town, but it’s clean and safe. Perfect for you to rest while I make arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” I look up at the modest building, confusion settling in my chest. “I thought—Aren’t we going to your home?”
“Oh, Elara.” His smile is gentle and understanding. “I wish we could, but it wouldn’t be right. Small towns like this? People talk. I want to do this properly, treat you with the respect you deserve.” He cups my face tenderly. “Besides, my place is a mess right
