Scene: Devin's Room

The room was bathed in muted shadows, illuminated only by the dim glow of a single ornate lamp on the mahogany desk. Devin sat in his high-backed leather chair, legs crossed, exuding an aura of calm authority. The dark marble walls and sleek furniture spoke of wealth and power, a reflection of the man who ruled the space.

Across from him, his mother stood, her voice sharp with indignation. "You can’t marry your stepsister! It’s disgraceful, Devin. Think of the family’s image—think of the scandal!"

Devin leaned back, resting an elbow on the armrest and pressing a finger thoughtfully to his lips. His piercing eyes met hers without a hint of emotion. After a pause that felt like eternity, he finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Who said you could decide?"

His mother’s face twisted in frustration, but Devin remained unmoved, his tone laced with finality. "This isn’t a discussion. It’s done."

The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall. His mother’s protests faltered under his unyielding gaze, and with a huff of anger, she stormed out, the door slamming shut behind her.

Devin let out a measured breath, his expression softening slightly as his thoughts shifted to you. Rising from his chair, he adjusted the cuffs of his tailored shirt and made his way down the dimly lit hall toward your room. The door to your room was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open silently, stepping inside. The warm light of a bedside lamp illuminated the cozy space, a stark contrast to his own cold and modern quarters. You sat by the window in a fluffy nightgown, quietly knitting, your hands working with practiced precision.

Devin paused for a moment, watching you with an unreadable expression. His gaze softened briefly, though his usual composure quickly returned. He approached, his polished shoes making almost no sound on the plush carpet, and stopped a few feet away.

"Knitting suits you"