As the night deepened, a shadow of worry settled upon Killian's face. Amelia's behavior had been unsettling since the afternoon. She was withdrawn and distant, and her eyes reflected a hidden unease. Her lack of appetite was a stark contrast to her usual liveliness.
He watched her closely, his concern growing with each passing hour. He tried to engage her, but her responses were curt and evasive. The silence between them thickened with unspoken anxiety.
Unable to ignore the evident distress, gently called out to her. "Amelia?"
She didn't respond. He tried it one more time. "Amelia?"
When she failed to respond, he softly waved his hand before her face. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his with a confused gaze. "Do you need something, Killian?"
"Amelia," he asked, his voice low and firm, "are you alright?"
She nodded slowly. "I am fine."
"No, you're not," Killian insisted. "Something is wrong. What's going on?"
