Grace Adams leaned against the wall, the weight of the man's neck heavy upon hers.
In the silence, not knowing how much time had passed, Grace Adams spoke to break the stillness between them, "We should go back."
Benjamin Moreland lifted his head, his hands still gripping her shoulders, gazing steadily into her eyes, his expression revealing complex emotions.
"Grace—"
"Sir, Madam, dinner is ready, the Old Madam asked me to call you."
Benjamin seemed like he wanted to say something, but the servant's voice interrupted.
Their posture was ambiguous, and the servant bowed his head, not daring to look.
Benjamin straightened up, taking Grace Adams's hand.
Grace Adams looked down at the scene of their tightly entwined fingers, her heart surging uncontrollably, almost wanting to embrace him.
She lowered her eyelashes, forcefully suppressing the absurd thought in her heart.
