The married couple first encounter
Leo lingered at the kitchen island, sketching not buildings but a strategy. Clara sat curled on the sofa, a book forgotten in her lap as she watched rain trace the window. He moved to the fireplace, lighting it with slow, deliberate hands. 'The nights are getting colder,' he said, his voice a low rumble. Clara's fingers tightened on her book. 'I thought you might like the warmth.' She glanced at the flames, then at his hands, her blush deepening in the firelight. He didn't touch her, but his gaze held hers until she looked away, a silent question hanging between them.