The storm that had shaken the grand foyer was finally ebbing into quiet. Gregory's car was gone, the servants had withdrawn, and the house exhaled a long, unsteady silence.
Yu stood near the base of the staircase, shoulders trembling, his hand still stinging from the cane's strike. The echo of Gregory's voice lingered like a stain on the air.
Adrian moved first. His movements were measured but there was nothing calm in his eyes—only a dangerous, protective heat. When he first reached Yu, he had said nothing at first; he simply took Yu's wrist back gently, turning the bruised skin toward the light. His thumb brushed over the reddened welt with a care that undid Yu's composure.
"I'm really fine. It doesn't even hurt all that much anymore."
Yu whispered, though his voice wavered.
Adrian exhaled through his nose, jaw tight.
"You're not fine…"
He murmured.
"I should have stayed."
Yu shook his head, smiling weakly.
"You came back early. That's enough."
