Inside Mary's Palace,
"Where are you going, dear?"
Mary's voice was calm—too calm. That unnatural stillness in her tone made the hallway feel colder. Her piercing eyes landed on her daughter, who was tiptoeing toward the large balcony doors under the cover of graylight sky.
Mary stood tall, her figure poised like a silent storm about to break. Her hands were folded in front of her, but the weight of her stare alone made Lia freeze.
Lia gulped, her throat dry, her voice weak and nervous. "I-I was just tryin—" but she stopped. The lie twisted at the edge of her tongue, and perhaps Mary sensed it... Or perhaps she already knew.
"Meeting your beloved?" Mary asked softly, yet the words were sharp—direct. There was no anger, only restraint, like she was forcing herself not to react.
Lia's cheeks flushed pink as she shyly nodded, her fingers fidgeting behind her back.
