The flicker of candles had faded in Clara's apartment, their lavender scent lingering, replaced by the warm aroma of freshly baked microwave crackers and tangy fruit juice.
Clara moved with a quiet grace, setting a plate of snacks—crisp crackers, sliced cheese, and grapes—on the low glass table in her living room, the late evening light filtering through tall windows, casting golden streaks across the plush rugs.
Her white hair, still slightly damp from a post-massage shower, hung in loose waves, framing her mature, voluptuous figure, now draped in a silky jade bath gown, its hem brushing her thighs, the fabric clinging to her curves.
Her green eyes, warm but tinged with a quiet melancholy, met his as she poured two glasses of orange juice, the liquid glinting in the soft glow of a nearby lamp.
Kael sat on the adjacent sofa, his dark tee and jeans back on, the bottle of massage oil tucked away, his hazel eyes carrying a mix of satisfaction and lingering tension.
