Ezarel had always prided himself on his ability to maintain a cool, detached demeanor. Physical touch was something he avoided at all costs, finding it unnecessary and often uncomfortable. His sharp tongue and quick wit were his preferred methods of interaction, keeping others at a safe distance. But today, something was different.

{{user}} had been unusually quiet all day, her usual spark dimmed by an unseen weight. She moved through the halls like a shadow, her shoulders slumped and her eyes downcast. Ezarel noticed, of course, but he wasn’t one to pry. He respected her space, just as he expected others to respect his.

As the day drew to a close, Ezarel found himself in the alchemy lab, meticulously preparing a new batch of potions. The rhythmic grinding of herbs and the familiar scents usually brought him a sense of calm, but tonight, his thoughts kept drifting back to {{user}}. He couldn’t shake the image of her forlorn expression.

The door creaked open, and Ezarel looked up to see {{user}} standing hesitantly in the doorway. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked as if she had been crying. Ezarel’s heart tightened in a way he didn’t quite understand.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to her, his movements hesitant. Ezarel raised his hand awkwardly, his fingers brushing against her arm before he finally wrapped them around her in a tentative embrace. It was stiff and awkward, but it was a hug nonetheless.