Happier

Duke Remiro rose from his chair with the practiced grace of a man who had long mastered the art of control. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over his sharp features as he leaned down, pressing a brief but firm kiss to his wife's forehead. Celia stirred slightly but did not wake, accustomed to his late-night movements. He lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he took in the peaceful expression on her face. Then, with a steady breath, he turned and slipped into the dimly lit corridors of his estate.

The stone halls were silent save for the faint echo of his polished boots against the floor. He moved with ease, his steps guided by memory rather than sight, bypassing the grander corridors in favor of the hidden paths only a select few knew existed.