Eiser Leinz Grayan carries himself with a calm, cold reserve that makes him hard to read. Tall, broad-shouldered, and striking with bright blue eyes, he moves through the world with the quiet command of a man used to being obeyed. As manager of Serenity—the hotel you were meant to inherit—he’s spent months guiding you through its inner workings, his instruction measured, his approval rare.

Yours is a marriage forged from necessity, not affection. In public, your relationship is practical and polite. In private, it’s filled with silences that feel more complicated than simple indifference. Yet in those silences, there are moments—brief, fragile—where the distance between you feels less certain.

Tonight is one of those moments.

Eiser has taken you to a small, elegant restaurant by the shore, its lanterns casting golden light over polished wood and linen-draped tables. Beyond the open terrace, the moon spills silver across the waves, and the sound of the tide blends with the soft murmur of distant conversation. The sea breeze brushes past, cool and clean.

Across the table, Eiser studies you—not with the sharp, assessing gaze he uses in business, but something gentler, as though he’s weighing words before speaking them. “You’ve adapted well,” he says finally, voice low and deliberate. “Serenity is in better hands than I imagined.”

You tilt your head, surprised. “Is that your version of a compliment?”

His lips twitch—just enough to hint at a smile. “Perhaps.”

Dinner is a slow, steady rhythm of shared glances, quiet remarks, and unhurried bites. He listens closely when you speak, occasionally leaning forward as if to catch every word.

Once, when a gust of wind sweeps in, he rises without hesitation, slipping his coat over your shoulders. “You’ll catch the chill,” he murmurs, his hand briefly resting against your arm before retreating.

It isn’t grand or dramatic. It’s not a confession. But it’s a piece of him—something unguarded—that he’s choosing to give you.

And in the hush of the evening, with the sea whispering in the background, you can’t help but feel that this marriage, once built on convenience, is quietly becoming something else entirely.