Chapter 38
The evening waiting room.
The Rain Seat’s hourglass today sounded like the chime of clear weather.
Lord Laurent has returned.
His bangs are neatly styled at a “battle-ready angle,” and in his hand is a small white flower.
(So cute.)
“I’ve brought a proposal that should comfortably address all inquiries—as a basis for discussion.”
“I’ll adopt it. Let’s discuss and decide.”
I take the flower from his hand and place it at the base of my hand mirror.
A single white dot against the golden frame.
Subtle, and lovely.
“Tonight, it seems I’ll be able to say my ‘three-line goodnight.'”
“Yes, you can.”
The back of my throat feels warm.
Between last night’s “only the stars” and tonight’s “you can,”
lies our quiet conflict and our quiet embrace.
“Before that, let’s perform the R operation.”
Hand in hand for ten seconds.
The warmth is more honest than any equation.
“Today, I choose to stand by your side once again.”
“And I, too, choose to stand by your side once again.”





