*Bael's POV*
*We don't have to pretend between ourselves.*
Bael stays still.
The words settle into the silence almost harder after Runze leaves than they did while he was standing there saying them.
*Or have you forgotten what this marriage actually is?*
The study door closes softly.
Then nothing.
For several long seconds, Bael doesn't move at all.
One arm remains half-lowered from where it had been wrapped around Runze's waist moments earlier, warmth still lingering faintly against his hand in a way that feels strangely difficult to ignore.
Eventually he lets the arm fall back to his side.
The room feels wrong now.
Not visibly. Everything looks exactly the same as it did ten minutes ago. The lamp beside the bookshelf still casts soft light across the desk, financial reports remain stacked neatly beside Runze's laptop, one pencil left slightly crooked near the edge of the table where he'd probably set it down absentmindedly before standing.
Nothing changed.
