Azrael's mind churned with thoughts about the letter, each contemplation reinforcing his realization that it was, indeed, a trap. Standing abruptly from the bench, his gaze inadvertently met Isolde's, her expression mirroring the same icy detachment.
Avoiding prolonged eye contact, Azrael mused, 'I didn't anticipate running into Isolde today.'
Breaking the silence, she inquired, "What are you doing here?" in a hushed yet composed tone. Azrael, tilting his head, retorted, "Why should I answer? It's a private matter, and rest assured, I didn't come here to see you."
Under the continuing bursts of fireworks, Isolde's eyes widened, bewildered by Azrael's apparent indifference. Internally, she questioned, 'Is this the Azrael I know?' Meanwhile, Azrael, fixated on the exploding colors above, pondered, 'Being indifferent to Isolde is challenging... I must depart from here swiftly.'
