The afternoon light filtering into Miss Claire's study had taken on a muted quality, the once bright sunlight now hidden behind thickening clouds that rolled across the sky like distant omens.
A steady wind rattled the tall windows intermittently, carrying the faint scent of approaching rain through the slight gaps in the antique frames.
Don settled into the chair opposite her desk, his posture relaxed yet attentive, the fabric of his dark long-sleeved shirt shifting against the upholstery as he leaned back slightly.
His gaze remained forward, taking in the woman before him without overt scrutiny.
Miss Claire sat behind the desk with her usual poise, her laptop open before her moments earlier, but now she closed the lid with a soft click that echoed faintly in the hushed space.
She exhaled a sigh, the sound carrying a touch of weariness that seemed uncharacteristic for her composed demeanor. "What a tiresome day," she murmured, her elegant voice threading through the room.
