"Why did you return so late?" Dahlia asked, her voice soft but with a touch of concern. She brought the lantern closer to the table, its warm light casting a soft glow over their faces as she set it down. "Brother Galen told me you've been training relentlessly, putting extra strain on your left hand and arm."
He let out a weary sigh, his gaze drifting to his hands. "I have to," he replied quietly. "I need to strengthen my left arm for battle. That day we were attacked... my arm was injured so badly that I couldn't use it. If it weren't for you, I would not have even sur–"
Before he could finish, Dahlia reached forward, placing her hand gently over his mouth, silencing him with a look of tenderness that spoke more than words ever could.
"Don't say that," Dahlia murmured, gently lowering her hand from his mouth. "You're being too hard on yourself. Overworking like this can wear you down."
