Elena looked away, her gaze tracking a stray drop of rain on the glass.
"I'm starving."
Silence stretched between them.
For a fraction of a second, Isabella thought she had misheard.
Starving.
Not a little hungry.
Not 'we should grab a bite.'
Starving.
Isabella studied the woman sitting across from her.
Perfect makeup.
Impeccable, rigid posture.
A perfectly manicured, controlled expression.
Then, the morning's puzzle pieces violently clicked into place.
The untouched toast at breakfast.
The whispered scoldings.
The deliberate skipping of meals.
The dress that had to be one size smaller.
Mother knows best.
Elena hadn't put a single piece of real food in her mouth all day.
Yet, there was no shame in her voice. No embarrassment.
She sounded entirely practical.
Like an artificial machine calmly announcing its battery was at one percent.
Elena's eyes locked onto hers, dark and bottomless.
"Shall we get lunch?"
No awkwardness.
No elaborate explanations.
