Darcy glanced around Elina Palmer's office, letting his gaze wander across the space with subtle curiosity. The walls were lined with framed certificates and awards. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling crammed full of thick textbooks and neatly organised journals.
On the polished desk sat a framed family photo. Darcy stepped a bit closer and tilted his head. Micah was there, noticeably younger, standing between two girls with a wide grin. Behind them Elina Palmer stood tall and composed, her hand resting gently on Micah's shoulder. A man hugged Elina, perhaps her husband and their father, smiling proudly.
Darcy's expression softened. There was warmth in that photo, a kind of familial harmony that didn't seem staged.
At first glance, Micah's mother seemed like a genuine person. She hadn't looked down on his faded shirt or worn-out bag. No snide remarks, no long glances at his striking face. For someone like Darcy, who was used to being quietly judged, that was rare.
