The morning sun streamed through the translucent curtains of the suite, bathing the room in soft golden light. Outside, the city was still slowly waking up, but inside that luxury hotel, everything seemed to move at its own pace—calmer, more precious.
Vergil and Roxanne were sitting at a large table on the private balcony, overlooking the city rooftops and a clear sky that seemed to bless that rare moment of peace. The table was covered with a hearty breakfast: fresh fruit, artisan breads, scrambled eggs, assorted pastries, and a bottle of steaming coffee.
Roxanne wore a soft robe, her hair still slightly damp from her shower, held awkwardly in place with a clip. Vergil, his shirt partially open and his expression serene, watched her between sips of coffee. She ate a sweet fruit tart with a childlike sparkle in her eyes.
"If they leave you alone with that tray," he said, resting his chin on his hand, 'I think you'll devour half the bakery in town.'
