Evelin's POV
"Are you serious?" I asked him.
Jimmy didn't strike me as someone capable of such vulnerability. I struggled to picture a man like him truly surrendering his heart to anyone.
"Yes..." His eyes drifted shut as he breathed in my scent.
It wasn't perfume—something deeper, like sunlight mixed with warm vanilla that seemed to radiate from my skin.
I could feel his tension melting away.
"Maybe I was just messing with you," he whispered against my shoulder.
He lingered there, soaking up whatever comfort I offered. The sick feeling his father's call had triggered seemed to fade with each breath he took near me.
In the days that followed, I made my daily pilgrimage to the Elysia family Memorial Hall. Each visit followed the same ritual—paying respects to my parents' urns, then several deep bows before our ancestors' tablets.
