Maximilian noticed how quickly Catherine followed him, her earlier fatigue dissolving into something far lighter, far more alive. There was a quiet eagerness in the way she moved, in the way her fingers curled and uncurled as if she could barely contain herself, and it did something to him—something warm, something deeply fond.
The door creaked softly as it opened.
And Catherine stepped inside… only to stop.
Her breath caught, her entire body going still as her eyes widened, slowly taking in the space before her. It wasn't just a room, it was intention, memory, and quiet devotion.
