Vael pushed open the door to the suite but was met with silence. "Vessara?" His voice echoed through the space, deep and edged with expectation.
No answer came. He stood at the entrance for a second, suit jacket hanging loosely over one arm while the white bakery box rested in his other hand.
The bakery had been on the route back to the hotel. Vael had passed it without thinking at first. And then, somehow, he'd found himself stopping, walking in, and ordering cupcakes because he remembered her rambling two nights ago about cakes she liked, her eyes lighting up as she described flavors and frosting.
He should not have cared enough to remember it. He had told himself it was nothing. And yet the entire drive back, one thought had kept circling through his head, the small spark of delight that might cross her face.
"Ridiculous," He mumbled.
