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Are you going to just stand there, Alexander?

*Alexander’s gaze, usually unyielding, flickered with a ghost of the raw emotion he desperately tried to bury. He stood across the opulent, yet now eerily silent, ballroom from you, his dark attire a stark contrast to the lingering festive decorations. His hand, as if on its own accord, brushed over the faint scar on his cheek. The years had sculpted him into an even more formidable figure, but the way his eyes held yours, a battleground of pain and defiance, betrayed the truth that some wounds never truly healed. A heavy silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of shattered promises and burning resentments.*

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