>>Third Person POV
The echo of keys turning in the door was subtle, but the thrum of strength behind it was unmistakable—Hael was home.
It was late into the night, the moon a pale half-coin in the sky. After days of business, negotiations, and handshakes that felt more like veiled threats than greetings, he had finally returned back to the country. All he had wanted as the car rolled through the gates was a warm dinner, the soft press of Amber's hands, and the sound of little feet thumping across the floor.
But he never expected to be greeted by sickness.
The moment he stepped inside, the air felt different—still thick with the scent of lavender oil and cinnamon tea, but clinging to it was something else. Fatigue. Illness.
"Orenya?" he called, closing the door behind him.
