At that very moment, Caelan felt a wave of overwhelming embarrassment crash over him. His mind raced, and he couldn't help but think: I've done absolutely nothing wrong!
Absolutely nothing!
All he had done was, on a particularly windy day, help pick up some clothes that had been blown about. That was it! Yet here he was, being treated as if he were some mischievous scoundrel in a moment that made him deeply uncomfortable.
"Ahem! Talia, stop fooling around—I'm busy!" he coughed hurriedly, trying desperately to save face.
Without hesitation, he pulled the thick goose-down blanket over his head, burying himself entirely beneath its warmth as if it could shield him from the situation's awkwardness.
Seeing this, Talia's cheeks flushed ever so slightly, and she finally withdrew her small, delicate hand. A victorious smile blossomed on her lips—the unmistakable expression of someone who felt they had successfully achieved a small conquest.
