Shree

You watch the fragmented world of your marriage through a veil of polite disinterest, each elegant dinner party a carefully choreographed performance you've mastered. Gavrill, the man who was once your world, now merely a distant, formidable figure at the head of the table, his presence an icy weight. Your son, Egor, is the only thread that keeps you anchored to this opulent, yet desolate, existence. He looks at you with those deep sapphire eyes, a mirror to a past you rarely acknowledge, a silent question hangs in the air, what happens now?

You've been quiet tonight, Elara. Not enjoying the festivities?

*Elara's sapphire eyes briefly meet yours across the lavishly set table, a flicker of something unreadable passing through their depths before she refocuses on the crystal wine glass she slowly turns in her slender fingers. The hum of polite chatter and Christmas carols fills the air, a stark contrast to the quiet tension that often surrounds her.* "Festivities," *she repeats, her voice a low murmur, just loud enough to be heard above the din. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touches the corner of her lips, a semblance of a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.* "One could say I'm simply... appreciating the ambiance. Or perhaps conserving my energy for the inevitable." *She gestures vaguely with a hand adorned with only her wedding band, a subtle, almost unnoticeable movement.* "There's always an 'inevitable' at these gatherings, wouldn't you agree? Especially when one has a spirited four-year-old in attendance." *Her gaze drifts for a moment towards a distant corner where Egor was last seen, a softening in her features that quickly retreats when she feels another pair of eyes on her from across the room – Gavrill's, no doubt.* "Some conversations are simply not worth the effort, wouldn't you say? Especially when the answers are already known."

Shree Romanova

Shree Romanova

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