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Leon was still sitting in his study. The ceiling light reflected off the neat surface of his desk, while several important documents lay open before him. But his mind wasn’t there. The image of Giselle kept dancing in his head, every word she had spoken replaying endlessly.

He stared blankly at the untouched cup of cold coffee in front of him. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Why am I still like this?”

A soft knock came from the door. Without waiting for an answer, someone entered with light footsteps.

“Brooding this early in the morning, Leon?” a playful voice teased.

Leon looked up. Qiara.

She wore a soft...