It was midday when Kotler entered the kitchen, the light filtering through the curtains, illuminating the dust that danced in the air. There she was, as always, her hands busy, delicately polishing a glass, her face serious, avoiding his gaze. The simplicity of her gesture irritated him, yet at the same time, he couldn't look away.

"Are you going to polish those glasses all afternoon?" Kurt said, his voice rough, filled with a tension he didn't quite understand.she glanced up for a moment, only to quickly lower her gaze and continued with her task, silent. Kurt felt a wave of frustration.

"Look at me when I’m talking to you!" he exclaimed, stepping closer with firm strides. His hand came down abruptly on the glass she was holding, forcing her to stop.