Dinner went as usual.
Mrs. Sari left the dishes on the table before heading home—rice, soup, side dishes that were simpler than on previous nights, but no one commented on it. We ate, chatted a little about light things, and when the plates were clean, Damian carried his cup of coffee into the living room while I stayed seated at the dining table for a moment.
Gathering something.
Not courage—that word was too big for what I needed tonight. More like clarity. Making sure that what I wanted to say came out the right way, not rushed, not overly calculated.
Five minutes later, I walked into the living room.
Damian was sitting on the sofa with a cup in his hand, staring ahead the way people do when they aren't thinking about anything in particular—their thoughts simply wandering on their
