She found him on the veranda the morning after the dinner, alone, coffee in hand, looking out at the garden with the specific, slightly overwhelmed stillness of a man still processing having survived their mother's version of a job interview.
"You lived," Afisa said, settling into the chair beside him without asking. "Congratulations. Not everyone does."
"Your sister warned me. I don't think the warning fully prepared me."
"Nothing fully prepares you. I've watched it happen to exactly one other person, years ago, and he left before dessert." She said it lightly, watching his reaction with more interest than the joke suggested. "You stayed for dessert."
"I wasn't going to survive the interrogation and then lose points on dessert etiquette."
Afisa laughed, genuine and a little surprised
