For hours, Mason remained seated in the armchair, lost in the pages of his book. Occasionally, his eyes would drift towards Xenia, who seemed frozen in place by the window. Perched there, her posture rigid, as though any relaxation might unleash a torrent of pent-up emotions. The silence enveloped them like a suffocating blanket, punctuated only by the heavy sighs escaping Xenia;s lips, each laden with unspoken anguish and unresolved bitterness. 

Suddenly a timid knock shattered the delicate balance of the room, Xenia’s gaze narrowed suspiciously as the door creaked open, revealing Jane with a tray of steaming dishes. Her eyes darted nervously between Mason and Xenia, who turned her...