“Order for table eleven,” a server interjected suddenly, slipping between them like an uninvited ghost. The clatter of dishes on wood broke the fragile tension that had just begun to coil around the table. One by one, the plates were arranged neatly, the aroma of Raellyn’s favorite dishes rising in warm spirals between them.
The interruption shattered the moment.
From the corner of his eye, Arnav caught the subtle shift in his wife’s expression. The sharp intensity that had moments ago promised an interrogation and the glint of suspicion in her gaze softened into something else the moment her eyes fell on the familiar dishes before her. It was as if the sight of comfort food had melted her resolve.
The intimidating mask, that flicker of fire ready to burn him with questions, vanished in
