Beatrice had tolerated it long enough.

The looks. The distance. The way Uriel always seemed to stiffen whenever she entered a room, as though her mere presence offended him. He never raised his voice at her, never insulted her outright, but the message was always there, sharp and unmistakable.

Avoidance. Irritation. A restraint that felt less like indifference and more like something he was actively fighting. And she did not understand why.

She found him near the stone corridor overlooking ...