Caelith sat beside the window, embroidering a silk pouch. Warm sunlight streamed across her figure, draping her in soft gold. Her hands moved steadily—needle rising and falling with practiced grace.
Yet at some point, the needle stopped in midair and remained motionless for a very long time.
Rhaegar walked over quietly from behind and gathered her into his arms.
"What are you thinking about?"
Caelith leaned back against his chest, smiling somewhat bitterly.
"I was thinking…" Her voice softened. "In a single lifetime, how many people must one inevitably disappoint?"
Rhaegar tightened his embrace around her. "You haven't disappointed anyone. What people expect of us cannot always align with what we want from ourselves. We live our lives the way we know how."
Caelith said nothing, but the bitter smile disappeared.
Sunlight spilled through the lattice windows, bathing the two of them in warmth.
***
