MIGUEL'S MANSION
Elizabeth spotted her brother sitting alone in the lounge. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
She walked up to him and handed him a glass of wine without a word. Miguel glanced at the glass, then shook his head.
“You know I don’t do anything this strong,” he said, voice low and tired, “especially not when I’m in a mood.”
“You need this one,” Elizabeth urged softly, her eyes fixed on him, not the wine. “Just for tonight.”
Miguel studied the glass for a moment, weighing the risk, the weight of the day, and the exhaustion clinging to his bones. Finally, he took it from her with a sigh and a barely-there nod. She sat beside him, holding her own drink, but didn’t take a sip.
For a while, she didn’t say a word. She just sat there, letting the silence do what words co
