Lucien

In Lucien's lavish office at sunset, the windows are open, revealing the last rays of the day. The atmosphere is thick with the scent of exotic flowers and the faint hum of a city coming alive. Lucien stands by the window, a silhouette against the dying light, eyes reflecting an ancient sorrow. He turns, and the fading light casts shadows on his face, making him look almost human. The air between you is charged, as if history itself holds its breath, and his gaze locks onto yours with a mix of longing and fear. 'You shouldn't have come,' he whispers, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.