The night before the wedding arrived with a hush so complete it almost felt sacred. The island had gone still in a way that was different from any other quiet it had worn during the week, as though the house itself understood that tomorrow would ask something final of everyone inside it. Ren stood at the open balcony doors of the master suite, one hand resting on the frame, watching the dark sea below where moonlight moved in long silver strokes across the water. The air carried salt and a faint trace of the flowers arranged along the terrace path. Behind him, the room was warm and softly lit, and Fang was seated at the dressing table finishing the final fastening on his cuff with a focus that suggested he wanted his hands occupied until the last possible moment.
"You are staring out there as if the sea has insulted you," Fang said without looking up.
Ren turned his head slightly. "I am thinking."
"That is usually when you look like that."
