Hektor's son, Lucan, stood at the edge of the garden, the morning light casting soft shadows across the estate's stone walls. The air was crisp, and a light breeze rustled the leaves of the tall oaks that lined the courtyard. Lucan's gaze lingered on his wife, Clarisse, who cradled their child in her arms. She was radiant in the early light, her golden hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders, her violet eyes catching the sunlight as she looked down at their baby.
He smiled softly and walked toward her, his boots making quiet sounds on the gravel path. When he reached her, Lucan leaned down and gently kissed her chin. It was a small, affectionate gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the bond between them. Clarisse looked up at him, her lips curling into a soft smile as she met his gaze.
"Are you leaving already?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of concern but laced with understanding.
