Lysander saw her suddenly fall, a flash of panic crossing his eyes. Instinctively, he reached out to help, but Giselle's sharp cry rang in his ears, causing him to sway. Immediately, he withdrew his hand to steady Giselle, who had nearly tripped over her gown.
Mila's outstretched hand froze in mid-air as she helplessly tumbled toward the staircase.
She stared intently at the scene before her: Lysander and Giselle huddled together on the stairs. Mila committed this moment to memory, biting her lip to brace for the impending pain. But just as she anticipated hitting the ground, a strong arm encircled her waist, lifting her up.
"Watch out."
A gentle, resonant voice whispered in her ear, the broad chest behind her radiating warmth.
Instead of crashing down in a bloody heap, Mila exhaled in relief, only now realizing her palms and back were clammy with cold sweat.
"Thank you."
Once she caught her breath, Mila turned to thank her rescuer, only to be momentarily stunned—it was Roland.
Roland, dressed in an elegant deep purple suit, wore his usual warm smile. Once he saw she was steady, he let go and stepped back politely.
"Roland?!"
Ryan finally snapped out of his daze, exclaiming in shock.
Roland cast a brief glance at his brother, saying nothing, but his gaze shifted to Lysander, whose expression was less than pleased.
"It's been a while. How's your mother doing lately?"
The Montgomery and Lockwood families had been close for generations, and with Lysander's mother and the Lockwood brothers' mother being longtime friends, it was customary to inquire after her well-being.
"She's doing well enough."
Lysander replied with a perfunctory nod, though his eyes were fixed on Mila.
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