Darius rose from his desk and sighed, he dragged his hand across his face. He twisted the door knob to let himself out of his office and nearly ran into Ryker.
"What do you need?" He asked.
"I needed to run somethings concerning Aramore with you," Ryker said.
The red haired man clicked his tongue and looked past him and then back at him. He shook his head and closed the door behind him. "That can wait, can it not?"
Ryker’s mouth hung open for a few seconds before he gave Darius a confused look. "I suppose it can but-"
Darius cleared his throat, interrupting Ryker. "I have something important to attend to. I will be with you by tomorrow." New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on ⓝovelFire.net
"I see," he murmured.
Darius nodded curtly and walked in the opposite direction, ignoring Ryker’s pointed stare. He went straight to his private garden and took two beautiful Dainathus flowers. He glanced at the sky and nodded to himself, he would be right on time.
Darius walked with a purposeful stride, the two Dainathus flowers in hand swaying gently with every step he took. Their white petals, streaked faintly with gold, caught the light of the near-noon sun. He brought them close to his nose, breathing in the sweet, mellow scent.
Before long, he reached his chambers and entered. The room, though modest by most standards, was neat and steeped in warmth from the sunlight pouring in through the tall windows. In the corner rested the easel, its tall frame hidden beneath a pale cloth. He paused in front of it. With careful fingers, he adjusted the cloth, and smoothing its edges. The painting beneath was still untouched since the day he had finished it.
He stared at it for a long moment, his eyes tracing the strokes he had committed to memory: Serena in a field of wild heather, her green eyes gleaming with delight. He picked it up gently and slung the strap over his shoulder, balancing it with care.
He headed down the long corridor, his steps steady, though anticipation thudded through his chest. Outside the designated room, he slowed. The door was slightly ajar. He nudged it open.
Serena stood by the window, her figure wrapped in a simple but elegant dress. A shawl draped over her head, dark, embroidered at the hem with simple detailing. It was just like how she had worn the white one, the day everything seemed to fall apart and fall into place.
A smile crept across his face. "You wear it again," he said softly.
Serena turned at his voice, surprised. "I missed it," she replied, lifting a hand to touch the shawl’s edge. "It feels like... home."
He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. "It suits you. You look beautiful."
Her eyes widened slightly before a bashful smile curved her lips. "Thank you. That is very kind of you to say."
He approached and held out the flowers. "For you."
She hesitated only a breath before taking them. "They are lovely... Dainathus, are they not?"
He nodded. "They bloom late in the season. It felt right."
She smiled again but tilted her head, glancing between him and the easel over his shoulder. "May I ask why did you call me here? I admit I have been curious since morning."
He frowned lightly. "Is it wrong for me to wish to see you?"
"No. Only that you are often very busy."
"I am. But today, I chose not to be." He gestured to the centre of the room, where a cushioned bench had been placed before a tall partition of carved wood. "Sit, if you would. And close your eyes."
Serena gave him a curious look but obeyed without protest, settling on the bench and folding her hands in her lap. Her shawl slipped slightly down her shoulder. She adjusted it carefully.
Darius moved quietly, setting the easel before her and slowly drawing back the cloth. He studied her face for a moment, eyes closed, shoulders calm but expectant then spoke gently.
Her eyes fluttered open.
For a moment, there was no sound but her breath catching in her throat. Her lips parted in astonishment as she gazed at the painting. "Is that..."
"You," he answered. "I painted it weeks ago."
Serena stood slowly and walked forward, as though the image might vanish if she came too quickly. "This is..." Her voice failed, and she pressed a hand to her chest. "I do not know what to say."
"You do not need to say anything," he said. "It is yours. If you will have it."
She looked at him, eyes glossy with emotion. "I do not think I have ever been painted before, wow."
"You should have been," Darius murmured. "You deserve this. And many more things like it."
Her breath hitched again. "You honour me beyond what I deserve."
He shook his head, firm. "You deserve kindness and everything else I can give to you, Serena."
A silence passed between them. Not an uncomfortable one, but one heavy laden with emotion.
She stepped closer to the easel again, fingers ghosting over the edge of the canvas. "I cannot even begin to repay something ."
"I do not ask for repayment, never in my wildest dreams would I expect that from you," Darius said quietly. "Only if you allow yourself to receive it."
Her shoulders trembled slightly, though her expression remained gentle. "Yes of course I will receive it wholeheartedly. I am glad you decided to keep painting."
"I am glad you convinced me," he said with a faint smile.
She chuckled softly and glanced back at the painting. "Then I thank you, Darius. This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me."
He inclined his head. "I am glad. I only wished to see you smile."
And she did. A real, bright smile, one that reached her eyes. He tucked that image away for later, certain he would commit it to canvas once more.