Now alone with the dangerous, yet gorgeous girl, the air that had turned soft and almost sweet in Olivia's presence shifted into something colder, quieter. The garden itself seemed to reflect that change — trimmed hedges standing in perfect lines, pale stone paths stretching between them, and a faint breeze stirring the leaves just enough to make a dry, whispering sound.
Anastasia sat there, composed as ever, yet something about her felt different.
She had changed her outfit again. This time, she wore a simple yet elegant white sundress that gently hugged her modest breasts and petite frame before flowing loosely around her mid-thighs. Her long silver-white hair was tied in a loose, low ponytail that cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, a few stray strands framing her face and catching the light with every subtle movement.
But it wasn't the clothes or the hairstyle that stood out most, it was her expression. The usual mischief and playful aura were gone.
