In the morning, we meet each other’s eyes at breakfast.
And I do my utmost to keep indifference on my face, to make sure no one notices my bewilderment, horror, confusion, the question…
But he doesn’t have to try. For him, everything that’s happening is simply the way things are.
He is the eldest son, the heir. My father’s hope and support. Cold, indifferent, haughty. Married.
He doesn’t even look at me during the day. And if our gazes accidentally cross at breakfast, I flinch—because in his eyes there are shades of the past night. Ours. And a promise of the next one.