Inside Nolan's room, Elina sat on the edge of the bed, her expression heavy with sorrow and frustration.
Her gaze occasionally flicked toward the door, as if waiting for something—or someone.
At his study desk, Nolan paused his reading and turned to look at her. He closed the book quietly.
"Why do you look so anxious, Elina? Is something troubling you?" He asked softly as he stood up.
He walked over and sat beside her, softly brushing the hair away from her temples.
Elina remained silent for a moment. Then she let out a faint sigh and rested her face against his broad chest.
"Brother, don't you think something is wrong? It's been three days, and I haven't received any letters from the heads of the noble families. Could it be that they don't have any hope for me?" She asked doubtfully.
Nolan froze, his brows knitting together in quiet concern.
