The Conversation Next To Jean
When Salviana arrived at Jean's chambers, the air inside felt heavy, almost tangible with tension. The storm outside began rumbling again, the low growl of thunder a backdrop to the dimly lit room.
Lucius sat by the bed, his broad shoulders hunched, and his usually sharp features dulled with sorrow. He looked clean and put-together—his dark red eyes almost black under the dim light and his neatly trimmed hair gleaming—but there was no mistaking the anguish etched into his expression.
Jean lay still on the bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. Her delicate features seemed at peace despite the lifeless stillness of her body.
Her previous gown had been replaced with a simpler white dress, but even that looked too grand for the pale, fragile state she was in now.
Salviana hesitated at the doorway. Lucius's presence filled the space, and she didn't know how to approach him.