"Why do you need a maid?" Damian asked, turning around only to find her in a state of quiet struggle. Eilika had swept her hair over one shoulder, her arms reaching back at an awkward angle as she tried to fasten the small hooks of her dress.

"To help me with the dress," Eilika replied. "The fastenings are a bit difficult to reach."

"You took my help earlier today," Damian said as he stepped toward her. "Come here. I’ll hook them for you."

Eilika hesitated for a fraction of a second before walking over and turning her back to him. The room felt suddenly very quiet. Damian’s fingers were surprisingly steady. As he worked his way up the line of hooks, his knuckles occasionally brushed against her skin, sending a faint, electric jolt through the air between them. This was the main reason she wanted a maid’s help. While Damian wasn’t feeling anything, she was.

"It’s done," he murmured, his hands lingering for just a moment after the final hook was secured. He stepped back. "You can apply some makeup if you wish. I’ll go inform Roman so he doesn’t feel left out."

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving Eilika staring at her reflection. Her cheeks were already flushed a natural pink. Then, her gaze drifted to the faint scar on her cheek, a reminder of a past she could never quite leave behind. Her fingers traced the mark.

"Damian hasn’t made me feel comfortable about this mark," she murmured to her reflection, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Is more makeup really necessary? No."

Deciding against hiding her face behind layers of powder, she chose to enhance what she had. She applied a tint of deep crimson to her lips, and carefully lined her eyes with dark kohl. She remembered Joanna’s playful advice: that a well-placed stroke of kohl was often the swiftest way to capture a man’s attention.

"Mama! Father told me you two are going out!"

Roman’s high-pitched voice suddenly echoed through the room as he burst in.

"Ahh!" Eilika gasped, her hand jumping at the sudden intrusion. The kohl pencil slipped, leaving a dark smudge across her eyelid. She looked at the blackened streak in the mirror and then back at Roman.

"She’s getting ready. Don’t disturb—" Damian’s warning cut short as he stepped into the room, his gaze landing on Eilika’s face.

One eye was framed perfectly, but the other was shadowed by a dark smudge where she was currently scrubbing with a handkerchief, only making the stain spread.

"Father, help Mama!" Roman cried out, releasing Damian’s hand to usher him forward.

Damian approached her steadily. "Ahh, it just keeps getting darker," she murmured, her skin reddening from the friction of the cloth.

"Give me the handkerchief," Damian commanded softly.

"I’ll do it," Eilika insisted, her grip tightening on the fabric. She didn’t want him to see her struggle with something so trivial, especially with her scar exposed so clearly to him. But Damian was undeterred; he firmly but gently took the cloth from her hand.

He leaned in, his other hand coming up to tilt her chin toward the light. With slow strokes, he wiped the smudge from beneath her eye.

Roman watched them, a triumphant little smile playing on his lips. In his mind, his plan to keep his parents together was working perfectly.

"You should apply it like this," Damian said. He picked up the kohl pencil and waited. "Open your eyes."

Eilika obeyed, her breath hitching as she realized just how close he was. She could see the ocean reflecting in his icy blue eyes and feel the warmth of his steady breathing. Her fingers knotted into the silk of her gown, anchoring her as he carefully drew the dark line across her lid.

He finally lowered the pencil onto the vanity table and stepped back. "Check it."

Eilika turned to the mirror, stunned. The line was perfect, even more elegant than she had ever managed herself. "Thank you," she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Father, you should kiss Mama! She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?" Roman exclaimed, his voice filled with innocent excitement.

"Gosh! Roman, who taught you such things?" Eilika asked, her face turning a shade of red that rivaled her lip color.

"My friends say their fathers and mothers kiss all the time," Roman explained, tilting his head with pure, unblinking innocence. "Is it bad? I kiss you, Mama, and you kiss me. It means we love each other, right?"

"Roman, what kind of friends have you made?" Eilika muttered, her face still burning.

"They are all nice, Mama," Roman insisted, oblivious to the havoc he had just wreaked on his parents’ composure.

Damian, however, remained surprisingly unfazed, though a trace of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maurice is waiting for you in your room. Go to him now. We will return late, so do not trouble anyone."

"Yes, Father," Roman chirped. He stopped at the door, covering his eyes with his small hands. "I’ll close my eyes now so you can kiss Mama!"

"Roman?" Eilika arched her brows. The boy simply giggled, waved a tiny hand blindly toward them, and scrambled out of the room.

The room fell into a silence. Eilika smoothed the front of her gown, unable to look Damian directly in the eye. "He’s only four," she murmured, shaking her head. "I truly don’t know what children are talking about with each other these days."

"They are more open about it, I believe," Damian replied. He stood his ground, his gaze lingering on her reddened lips.

"Though I must say you’re looking beautiful, Eilika," Damian said.

She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Her heartbeats which just steadied again turned faster. Damian didn’t once call her beautiful with such a soft tone. Hearing such a compliment from her husband was a different feeling for her.

"Wear your heels. It’s getting late," Damian said, walking toward the door once again.