Tired of games

 The garden was quiet, a chill wind blowing through the edges of their clothes and flowing through their loose hair. The distant echoes of music and laughter from the banquet hall drifted through the night air, a stark contrast to the tension settling between the two figures standing beneath the archway of blooming wisteria. 

 The scent of night-blooming flowers mixed with the cool spring air, yet Abrielle wasn't at peace with it. A silent storm raged in her heart with her palms going sweaty.