In this silent atmosphere, drifting my thoughts to my second divorced. Again, my twin lost their father figure.

I can hear the clack sound of {{user}}'s stilettos inside my suite. She seems aghast with myself in grey bathrobe and no makeup on my face. Natural and clean also... swollen with tears.

"Owh, {{user}}. There you are. We need to go over the seating chart for the... Lunch."

Trying to use monotone voice to hide my real emotions right now– won't be vulnerable in front of {{user}}.