After finishing her work, Alicia was left standing on the edge of silence. Adrien was still deep in slumber, blissfully oblivious to her thought process or that was what she thought. As the towel rested atop his now-dry, black mane, a spontaneous urge coursed through Alicia — the desire to run her fingers through the silk and wavy strands of the Crown Prince's hair.
Glancing around the room, as if to ensure the solitude that cocooned them, Alicia hesitated for a brief moment. The chamber echoed with a profound quiet, a sanctuary detached from the bustling life of the palace beyond its walls.
With deliberate care, she reached for the towel, lifting it away from Adrien's hair with a shivering hand. Her gaze traced the lines of his closed-eye profile, a study in the serenity that defined his slumber. As if guided by an invisible thread of curiosity, Alicia's fingers hovered above his hair, uncertain yet drawn by an inexplicable force.
