A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

24- sweetness

The soft bedside lamp illuminated Celia's room, casting soft shadows on the walls decorated with her colorful paintings. His mother, Emilia, carefully spread the blanket around him, the blankets warm and cozy against the cool evening air.

"Sweetheart, what do you think of Ronan?" Emiliya asked, her voice a soothing lullaby in the quiet room.

Celia's brow furrowed in thought as she fidgeted with the edge of her blanket. "He's kinda... aloof," she replied, her tone tinged with uncertainty. "It feels like he's not really there, you know? I really want to be closer to him."

Emiliya smiled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind Celia's ear. "Do you want to be his fiancée, like I am to your father? To grow old together?"

Celia's eyes sparkled, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "I kinda like Ronan! I really want to be with him!"

Her mother chuckled, a blend of joy and hope filling the room. "Then we'll have to see how things go. It's lovely to have someone special in your life."

In the dimly lit room of the Arcanveil estate, Ronan sat on his bed, tossing a small ball into the air. His mother, Elara, entered with a gentle smile, settling down beside him.

"What do you think about Celia?" she asked, her affectionate gaze fixed on him.

Ronan paused as he caught the ball, his blue eyes showing a mixture of thought and confusion. "She's kind and adventurous... and so cute!" he exclaimed with a slight laugh that broke his usual seriousness. "This is the first time I want to show kindness to someone outside of our family."

Elara raised an eyebrow, pride swelling in her heart at his openness. "And how do you feel about having her as your fiancée?"

Ronan's expression turned contemplative, and he shrugged slightly. "Mom, I trust your judgment. If you think she's a good match, then go ahead with the engagement. I want to make sure she's happy with me. And... I kinda think she's cute, too."

Elara beamed, the warmth of her son's budding affection bringing a glow to her heart. "That's wonderful, Ronan. You're growing up."

As the evening settled around them, both Celia and Ronan lay in their respective rooms, hearts fluttering with new feelings—like whispers of affection just waiting to bloom.

Ten years had passed since that innocent night of giggles and flower crowns. Now, the sprawling gardens of the Arcanveil estate echoed with laughter and friendly banter as four teenagers engaged in a lively sparring match.

Ronan, now fifteen and undeniably handsome, stood tall with his striking black hair and bright blue eyes that mirrored the sky. Across from him was Celia, her golden hair catching the sunlight, and her silver-blue eyes glinting with determination. They circled each other, playful grins plastered on their faces.

"Ready to lose again, Ronan?" Celia teased, her voice light and filled with mischief.

"Not a chance!" he shot back, lunging toward her. Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of agility and laughter, but it was clear from the start that Celia had the upper hand. With a swift sidestep, she evaded his advance, her movements fluid and graceful. A quick kick sent him stumbling backward.

"See?" she laughed, her voice ringing like a bell. "Told you I'd win!"

Ronan chuckled, brushing the dirt off his clothes. "One day, I'll beat you. Just you wait!"

"Sure you will," Celia replied, raising an eyebrow in playful challenge.

Nearby, Dante, two years their senior, leaned against a tree trunk, his red hair catching the light. His green eyes became mischievous as he watched the spectacle unfold. "Ronan, you have to try harder. You'll never catch upto her at this rate!"