The door clicked shut behind Serena, soft as a sigh — the kind of sound that should have vanished instantly, swallowed by the cavernous stillness of the Minister's office.
But it echoed.
It lingered.
It settled into the space like a ghost refusing to leave.
Christopher didn't move for a long time.
The fire had burned low, its embers collapsing into themselves with a muted glow. The orange light stuttered across the paneled walls, stretching and warping the shadows until they looked almost alive. Outside, the storm pressed against the tall windows, ribbons of pale lightning slicing briefly through the night and reflecting off his eyes like fractured steel.
She was gone.
But her scent lingered — faint rosewater, soft musk, and rain that clung to her hair. It threaded through the room, through him, through every breath he took, contradicting the emptiness she left behind.
He shut his eyes for one measured heartbeat.
