Salima's presence at the table struck me as disconcertingly muted, a stark contrast to the animated conversations we'd been having since our meal began. Her voice had barely graced our discussion, save for the occasional inquiries she directed toward Maria, softly inquiring whether the little one desired another serving or if she had, indeed, reached her limit.
Midway through savoring a delectable morsel of the steak that Sam had expertly prepared, I couldn't help but sense a disquieting air around Salima. Consequently, I probed gently, my concern compelling the question, "Is everything alright, Sam?" Her response, albeit ostensibly composed, bore the telltale signs of concealed turmoil. As I observed, her furrowed brow and the subtle quiver in her lip betrayed emotions she was hesitant t
