Amira didn't knock. Of course, she didn't.
The door creaked open just enough for her to slip in, utterly unbothered, like she owned every room she walked into. Her crimson hair was slightly tousled, like she had just rolled out of bed or maybe just didn't care enough to tame it. A mug of tea rested lazily in her hand, steam curling upward in soft spirals.
She stopped at the doorway. Leaned. Watched.
Her eyes flicked once, taking in Julian first. The way he stood just a little too close, his body angled like a shield, like the world had no right to touch what was his.
Then to Amara.
Flushed cheeks. Soft lips. That look in her eyes that hadn't quite settled yet.
Oh. Oh, she understood.
Slowly, deliberately, a smirk spread across Amira's face, sharp, wicked, and far too knowing for anyone's comfort.
"The air in here…" she drawled, lifting the mug to her lips and taking an unhurried sip, "…is practically vibrating."
Julian didn't move. But something in his jaw tightened.
