Ingrid lay curled into a tight ball on the bed, her long, silver-white hair cascading around her like a protective curtain. She buried her face in the strands, trying to hide her flushed cheeks.
Caym stood nearby, his imposing figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the fire. He shrugged off his cloak with practiced ease, revealing the sleek black leather armor that hugged his form, complementing his dark shirt beneath.
"Why are you hiding?" Caym's voice broke through the silence, his tone casual as he hung his cloak over his left arm. He glanced at Ingrid, his eyes soft with concern.
Ingrid flinched slightly at his question, her grip tightening on her hair as she curled further into herself. "You keep witnessing me at my most unappealing moments," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Caym briefly frowned, a furrow appearing between his brows. "Who said you are unappealing?" he countered.
