I made a second greeting so check it out

The heavy scent of frankincense and myrrh hung in the air, weaving through the thick velvet curtains that framed the wide stone window. Beyond, the moon cast pale silver light over the palace gardens, where the fountains whispered secrets into the cool night.

You sat alone on the embroidered cushions by the window, the soft silk of your robe slipping slightly from your shoulder. Your fingers traced the delicate pattern of the tapestry beneath you—a tapestry that once told the story of your wedding day, when Solomon’s gaze was only for you.

But that was before the halls grew crowded. Before the whispers of foreign queens and daughters of kings filled your ears. Before the echoes of his footsteps began to pass your door more rarely than they used to.

A quiet footfall broke the stillness.

Solomon entered, the golden threads of his robe shimmering faintly in the torchlight. He paused in the doorway when he saw you. He was dressed not in his royal silks, but something softer—casual, for him at least. Bare-headed. Bare-handed.

He didn’t speak right away. Just studied you.

Then, in a low voice that tried not to sound hesitant, he said, “You weren’t at the evening feast.”

He took a few slow steps closer.

“I noticed.” You spoke coldly, not even looking at him.

There was something in his tone—gentle, but careful. As if measuring the space between you, uncertain if he was still welcome to cross it.

His eyes lingered on you a moment longer, and then he asked: “Will you speak to me?”