"I share your sentiments as well. Despite our mother's illness, I am grateful that she is still alive. And meeting you, too, has been fortunate for me."

Cain's lips, adorned with grace, curved slowly upward. As he listened to her words and revealed his sincerity, her heart swayed. Somehow, it felt as though their married life would be carried out smoothly and end successfully.

The sunlight was waning, and a stronger wind than during the day rustled Laila's garments.

It was during this moment, as the two shared their first genuine emotions and exchanged smiles.

"There...," the voice of an aged man interjected between them. Laila and Cain turned their bodies.

A man with graying hair stood awkwardly, his lips forming a hesitant smile. His loosely worn attire had threads unraveled and colors faded, showing signs of a worn-out shirt. He wore a canvas on his side and held a box in his hand, its surface adorned with patches of paint, revealing it to be an artist's easel.

"Pardon me?"

"I am Felix Manten, a painter," the artist answered Cain's inquiry.

"However?"

"Your beauty is so captivating, would you grant me the honor of painting you?" the artist spoke, his eyes filled with astonishment as he gazed upon Laila.

Unexpectedly, Laila's face flushed crimson. She had heard that some artists desired to paint without being confined by monetary constraints. Such women must possess considerable allure, they said. Now that she received such a proposal, she felt surprised, pleased, and embarrassed all at once.

"Even at a glance, I am recognized as a well-regarded painter in the realm of portraiture."

Both Cain and Laila seemed to sense that there was no answer, so the artist interjected with a refusal.

"Apologies, but I'm afraid I cannot accommodate you as I am currently on my honeymoon. However, should the opportunity arise, I shall reach out to you."

Cain politely smiled and declined the artist's proposition.

"Ah, I see you're on your honeymoon. I apologize for intruding. Nevertheless, if you ever summon me, I shall paint both of you magnificently. Have a delightful journey."

Accepting the mention of their honeymoon, the artist acquiesced and withdrew. Yet, he couldn't conceal his disappointment as he alternated his gaze between Laila and Cain's faces.

Felix Manten stood still, having walked for a while. Lost in thought, he slowly turned his body. He had just spoken with the handsome man and the beautiful woman, who were now engrossed in a conversation, their laughter filling the air. His gaze shifted to the woman—a petite face with striking blue eyes, golden hair swaying in the gentle breeze.

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"They look so alike, don't they?" Felix Manten murmured, tilting his head in contemplation.

"The eyes that behold are all alike," mused Cain, observing the retreating figure of the painter.

"And what do you mean by that?" inquired Laila.

"It means you stand out in people's eyes."

"But there must be many women around here who catch people's attention."

Laila, failing to grasp his words, questioned further. Cain had never praised her appearance or gazed at her with the same admiration as others did. Therefore, she assumed that she did not appear as beautiful in Cain's eyes. She dismissed the compliments she had heard at the Blast Street u as nothing more than hollow echoes from a shallow well.

"Of course, there are plenty. However, among those I've seen..."

Cain paused and gazed intently at Laila. The crimson hues of twilight cast a soft glow upon their faces. A gentle breeze swept by, causing Laila's hair to flutter beneath her hat.

He reached out and delicately brushed Laila's shimmering golden locks with his hand.

"You are the most beautiful."

"..."

As Cain's words fell, her heart sank. It was a sentiment entirely different from the emotions she had known until now. Without comprehending its true nature, Laila swallowed hard and turned away. The wind rushed into her chest, stirring her soul.

***

Cain and Laila's lodging, where they found themselves, was a five-story stone building situated by the riverside. It wasn't excessively large, yet it exuded cleanliness and a nostalgic charm, making it the most expensive place in the vicinity.

Within Laila's room, there were two grand windows, and standing on the small balcony, one could behold the flowing river up close. The sight of graceful white swans gliding along was a sight to behold.

As the evening approached, lights began to illuminate the building and the streets. Laila stepped out onto the balcony to gaze upon the nocturnal scenery.

Knock, knock. A low and composed knocking sound resonated.

"Yes?"

Laila responded, her hand pressing against her thumping heart. As expected, the door opened, and Cain stepped inside. He had only loosened his tie, still attired in his casual outfit.

"Do you enjoy theater?"

"Theater?" Laila asked, her eyes widening in surprise. She knew what theater was, but she had never witnessed it herself. Occasionally, she would hear the Blast Sajangga ladies, who followed their patrons to theaters, excitedly boasting about the experience. They claimed that watching actors donning old-fashioned attire and enacting tales from the past was immensely captivating.

She quashed her desire to see her as soon as she heard the mention of money. With no means to buy food, what did theater matter?

"There's a renowned theater troupe here. Would you like to go?" he asked.

"Now, this very night?" she inquired.

She longed to go desperately, but fear struck her like lightning. She dreaded venturing out at night. It was inevitable when living in the Blast Streett. Even if it were a sturdy man walking by, it was evident that something untoward might happen if a woman were to go out alone in such perilous streets.

"It's safe here. There's a night market to explore, a refreshing breeze to enjoy. It would be perfect to take a stroll after watching the play," he assured her.

"…Yes, that sounds good."

Laila set aside her brief hesitation and accepted his proposal. With Cain by her side, she felt invulnerable. There were also security guards accompanying him, ensuring their safety. Above all, she yearned to experience everything he had spoken of.