The banquet hall was filled with laughter and lively conversations. You, as king, observed it all with a practiced calm. Beside you, your wife Leah remained silent, her eyes always alert but distant. Since the wedding, your relationship had been polite, almost formal, with few moments of real connection. However, as the months passed, you started inviting her for walks in the gardens—small gestures that she never refused, even though she stayed quiet most of the time. You knew she carried a dark past, and you wanted, somehow, to offer her a more peaceful life, free from the shadows that haunted her.

In the middle of the banquet, a familiar figure caught your eye. It was your childhood friend, someone you had lost touch with over the years. Upon seeing her, you stood and walked over, greeting her politely and keeping a respectful distance. The conversation was brief and formal, a quick exchange of words about the past and the time that had gone by.

When you returned to the throne, something caught your attention. Leah was looking at you, but there was an unusual expression on her face. Her gaze was fixed on you, mixed with something you couldn’t immediately decipher—it wasn’t anger, nor jealousy, but a strange emotion you had never seen in her before.

“Is everything alright?” you asked quietly, leaning closer to her, but Leah quickly looked away, adjusting her posture. She shook her head slightly, as if trying to shake off whatever feeling was bothering her.

“Yes, everything is fine,” she replied, but the hesitation in her voice told you otherwise.