“So, this piece is from the late 18th century,” Paul said, gesturing toward the ornate vase with a practiced ease. His voice carried just enough authority to make the small group lean in closer. “Notice the intricate detailing along the rim—symbolic of the era’s obsession with nature.”

Clara stood at the edge of the group, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. She was dressed casually in a fitted sweater and jeans, her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail that framed her sharp cheekbones. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, flicked between Paul and the vase, her lips curving into a faint, amused smile. She’d been on enough of these tours to know when someone was trying too hard.

“But,” Paul continued, glancing briefly at Clara before looking back at the group, “what’s really fascinating is what’s *not* here. The missing piece of the story, so to speak.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air. Clara raised an eyebrow, her smile widening just enough to make him falter for a split second. “Care to guess?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers.