Yannis led Lara down the southern path of the mansion grounds, where the world seemed to quiet into something almost intimate.
Above them, ancient Narra trees arched overhead, their branches weaving into a living canopy. Sunlight filtered through layers of green, breaking into soft, shifting patterns that danced across the stone path. The air beneath was cooler—touched with the scent of damp earth and leaves—like stepping into a hidden sanctuary untouched by the harshness beyond.
For a while, only the sound of their footsteps filled the silence.
Measured. In sync.
Too in sync.
"I assume you've seen the photo," Yannis said at last, his tone casual—but not quite. His hands remained tucked in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, yet his gaze flicked toward her with quiet precision. "Is that why you lost consciousness?"
Lara didn't just pause.
She stopped.
The sudden stillness broke the rhythm between them, like a snapped thread.
Of all the things he could ask—he chose that.
