Conradin stood in the garden, his gaze silently fixed on his mother. He offered no immediate response, the lines of his face betraying a complex mix of emotions. His eyes, once full of warmth, now held a hint of guarded caution towards half of his own blood . The weight of the years of estrangement, and the pain that had accompanied it, hung heavily in the air.
The silence between them stretched, punctuated only by the subtle sounds of the garden—the rustling leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the gentle ripple of the fountain's waters. His mother, standing before him, met his gaze with a mixture of hope and apprehension. In that moment, unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingered, making their reunion a fragile and uncertain one.
