The next day at the dining room, it was only Aria and Damian sitting opposite each other, the long table feeling even longer in the silence between them. The clinking of cutlery was the only sound in the whole room.

Damian cut into his food without looking up, but he kept stealing quick glances at Aria. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even look in his direction. She just calmly ate, like he didn’t exist.

Finally he cleared his throat.

“Have you heard from Grandma?” he asked.

Aria didn’t answer. She kept eating — slow, steady, unbothered.

He frowned.

“Aria?” he repeated, louder.

She paused, lifted her eyes slightly but...