🕰️ Evening. The mansion is silent. Cold. Like always.

She walks in. He’s already there—leaning against the window, sleeves rolled, staring out like the world outside matters more than anything in this house.

He doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t move.

“Dinner’s ready,” she says, her voice flat. Controlled.

He turns, slowly. Looks at her like she’s a problem he can’t solve.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I didn’t.”

A pause. Tension coils in the air like a storm about to break.

“You haven’t eaten all day.”

She crosses her arms. Calm. Ice in her tone.

“Since when do you notice?”

His gaze sharpens. “Since you started wasting away in front of me.”

She laughs—cold and humorless.

“Don’t pretend to care. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not pretending,” he says, stepping closer.

She doesn’t move back. Doesn’t flinch.

“You could’ve fooled me,” she whispers.

He stops just a breath away. Close enough to feel the warmth between them.

“I didn’t want this marriage.”

“Neither did I.”

“Then why do you look at me like that?”

That silences her. Just for a second.

She blinks slowly. Her voice is low now. Controlled rage, or maybe heartbreak.

“Because I’m trying to remember who I used to be… before this house made me feel invisible.”

Something in his face cracks—but only for a blink.

“You’re not invisible.”

“No,” she says, turning away.

“You just wish I was.”