Sitting on the couch, Ren leaned back, a book resting on his face. He had already begun to feel better, though the wound still ached whenever he exerted himself. He tried doing small tasks—arranging the room or cleaning up after meals—but the maids stopped him every time. It was a habit he couldn't get rid of. Still, they insisted they were following Zayden's orders: he wasn't to do anything.
And the man in question was nowhere to be seen today. Yesterday, he had been coming in and out as if it were his own room—well, it was indeed his room…
Hearing a knock on the door, Ren jolted. Instantly, the book slipped from his face and thudded onto the floor.
"Who is it?" he asked. Zayden wouldn't bother knocking to enter his own room.
"It's me," a familiar voice replied, slightly muffled from the other side of the door.
