The carriage rumbled steadily down the winding road, its wheels clicking against cobblestones like a heartbeat. Darius sat stiffly across from Irene, his broad shoulders almost brushing the velvet walls of the carriage. He braced himself for the usual volley of questions, teasing remarks, or playful threats that Irene seemed to delight in throwing at him.
But instead, silence.
She shifted in her seat, smoothed her dress, and finally spoke in a tone so soft it disarmed him.
"Thank you… for saving me back then."
Darius blinked. That was it? No smirk, no quip, no chase? Her words hung in the air like something fragile, uncharacteristic of the lively Irene he thought he understood.
He had expected—no, wanted—her to say something else. He wasn't even sure what. Something bold, something irritating, something that kept him on edge. Instead, all she offered was gratitude, and in that moment, she looked at him as if he truly was a hero.
