Aslan tried to stand up. His face was not as pale as before. He wanted to see his wife who was lying on Azel's bed. Meanwhile, Azel, as usual, sat silently on his couch, facing the fireplace that was lit again by Mathius earlier.
Aslan was still feeling weak, but not particularly tired like after he had finished killing all the assassins this morning. Aslan sat down while looking at his wife who was sleeping soundly. The girl's lips parted slightly and let out a soft breath.
Her long and curly eyelashes fluttered beautifully when Aslan looked at them from the side. Then, he held his wife's soft hand that had done so much. Those slender and delicate fingers had helped him a lot.
Aslan hooked his index finger on Rosie's. Their skin color looked really contrasted. He brought his face closer, opened Rosie's palms, and buried his face in them.
