Awkward conversation

After two long days, I finally have the chance to see my elusive son-in-law. Thorne, as expected, has been hoarding him away, as though afraid someone might steal him. And perhaps he has reason to be—after all, I've never seen a man so stunning in my life.

There he is, seated in the garden on a rocking chair, looking like he belongs in a portrait destined to hang in the most prestigious galleries of the Empire. His long, jet-black hair cascades over his shoulders like silk, catching the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He wears a pastel peach silk shirt that shimmers subtly, paired with simple yet elegant pants. On his chest rests Mirelle, my darling granddaughter, with her little pigtails bouncing as she giggles at something her father has done.