Axel's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. He moved closer, his actions deliberate but devoid of tenderness. There was no romance, no affection—only the cold fulfillment of an obligation neither of them wanted but both were bound to.
The room was silent save for the rustle of fabric and the faint crackle of the fireplace. Even in the most intimate of acts, there was a distance between them, a wall neither could bring themselves to break down.
Axel had removed his ceremonial coat, leaving him in a simple linen shirt and dark trousers. Despite the casualness of his attire, he looked as formidable as ever, his broad shoulders and sharply defined features a reminder of the soldier who had won countless battles. But here, in this room, he was not a war hero—just a man caught in the constraints of duty.
