23rd Day of the Marriage Game
The air in the dining room hung heavy with tension, a palpable unease that seeped into every corner and crevice. The sound of silverware scraping against plates echoed faintly, but it did little to mask the undercurrent of hostility that hummed through the room. Sol sat rigid, his jaw clenched as he wordlessly picked at his food. His posture was tense, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Owel with a simmering intensity that betrayed his silence. Despite his restraint—a courtesy extended to the former madame of the Belmonte household—his gaze spoke volumes, a silent storm brewing in the depths of his ash-brown eyes.
Neoma, seated beside him, appeared equally burdened, her expression betraying her weariness as she stabbed at her scrambled eggs without appetite. Her
