When Olivia turned to Sienna-Rose and softly asked, "May I spend some time with Ivan?" There was a moment of quiet stillness—gentle, intimate.
Sienna-Rose looked at her with eyes full of warmth, the kind that melted through the edges of her usual composed poise. A small, knowing smile graced her lips before she leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Olivia's temple.
"He's your son, dear," she said, her voice a smooth, velvety murmur. "Go. Spend time with him. Help him pack, if you must—but don't bring too much. He can have more back home, where he belongs. We can buy whatever he needs."
The words "home" and "belongs" struck Olivia like a bell in the deepest part of her chest. Her lips trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, unbidden and unstoppable. "Thank you, my dear," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
