Lila
The package was small—no larger than a folded napkin—but it gleamed like treasure in Emma’s hands.
We sat in the lounge, the windows cracked to let in the early light. Morning wind carried the scent of fresh lemon blossoms from the courtyard, soft and sharp all at once. My tea sat cooling on the table between us, untouched.
Emma’s eyes were wide with curiosity as she turned the gift over in her palms. The wrapping was elegant—deep green silk tied with a silver ribbon, the ends finished clean and tucked perfectly beneath a wax seal. The seal bore a delicate, swirling crest. Larian’s.
She looked up at me, cheeks flushed. “Should I open it now?”
I nodded, managing a smile. “Of course.”
She broke the seal carefully, like unwrapping something holy, and peeled back the silk. Nestle
