The fire still danced low in the hearth, casting gentle flickers of orange against the polished wooden panels of the room. The night had quieted, yet Prudence's heart still echoed with unrest with its rhythm unsettled, its hopes timidly stirred.
Vincent remained seated beside the bed for a moment longer, his gaze tracing the silhouette of the woman who had, without intention, unwound every calculation he had once relied upon.
It was she who broke the silence, her voice a breathless murmur laced with apprehension and quiet fury."Do not make me feel things from now on that you will not take care of later."
The demand, brave and a little desperate, clung to the air between them.
Vincent's eyes, usually mischievous, softened. A shadow of trickery tugged at the corner of his lips as he replied quietly, "That... I cannot promise."
