47 An Uneasy Calm, A Frosty Reception
Elara’s POVO
The Thorne mansion felt different tonight. Quieter. Emptier. Despite Cora’s endless chatter filling the kitchen as I prepared dinner, there was a hollowness to these walls that hadn’t existed before I moved out.
“And then Ms. Harper said my drawing was the best in the class!” Cora beamed, swinging her legs from her perch on the kitchen stool. Her small fingers traced invisible patterns on the marble countertop.
I smiled, carefully cutting vegetables for the pasta sauce. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart. What was your drawing of?”
“Our family!” She replied with childish pride. “I drew you and Daddy and me at the
beach.
My knife paused mid–chop. We hadn’t been to the beach as a family in over two years.
“That sounds lovely,” I managed, resuming my chopping with perhaps more force than
necessary.
I hadn’t planned on being here tonight. But Cora’s tearful phone call this afternoon had crumbled my resolve. With Damien away on business and the nanny calling in sick, my daughter had sounded so small and lonely on the phone.
“When will Daddy be home?” Cora asked, her chin resting in her palm.
“Tomorrow evening, I believe. I stirred the sauce, tasting it with a small spoon. “He’s in Milan for meetings.”
Cora sighed dramatically. “I miss him.”
A familiar ache squeezed my chest. “I know you do, sweetie.”
The front door opened with a decisive click.
Cora’s head snapped up. “Daddy?” she whispered hopefully.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the foyer, coming closer.
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47 An Uneasy Calm, A Frosty Reception
“Smells good in here,” Damien’s deep voice filled the kitchen before he did.
“Daddy!” Cora squealed, launching herself off the stool and into his arms.
I froze, wooden spoon suspended over the bubbling sauce. He wasn’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.
Damien caught our daughter with practiced case, lifting her high before settling her against his hip. His suit was impeccable despite his travel, not a crease to be seen. His dark hair was perfectly styled, as though he’d just stepped out of a board meeting rather than an international flight.
“Hello, princess,” he said to Cora, his smile warm and genuine in a way it never was for me. Then his eyes found mine. “Elara.”
My name sounded formal on his lips. A statement, not a greeting.
“You’re home early,” I observed, turning back to the stove. My voice sounded stiff even
to my own cars.
“Meetings finished ahead of schedule.” He set Cora down, his gaze lingering on me. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Mommy came because I was lonely!” Cora announced, tugging at her father’s hand. “And she’s making my favorite pasta!”
I could feel his eyes on my back as I stirred the sauce. The weight of his attention. pressed against my shoulder blades.
“How considerate, he remarked, his tone unreadable.
Mr. Finch appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows rising slightly at the sight of Damien. “Welcome home, sir. Shall I take your luggage?”
“Yes, thank you.” Damien handed over his briefcase. “Dinner smells delicious.”
“It’s almost ready,” I replied without turning around. “Cora, would you please set the table?”
My daughter happily obliged, pulling out plates while chatting excitedly to her father about her day. I listened to their easy conversation, feeling like an intruder in what was once my home.
21:06
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47 An Uneasy Calm, A Frosty Reception
Twenty minutes later, we sat around the dining table- Damien at the head, Cora and 1 on either side. A perfect family portrait that couldn’t be further from reality.
“And then Jimmy put a frog in Ms. Harper’s desk drawer!” Cora giggled, twirling pasta. around her fork. “She screamed sooo loud!”
Damien chuckled. “That wasn’t very nice of Jimmy.”
“He got in big trouble,” Cora confirmed solemnly before launching into another school tale.
I kept my eyes on my plate, speaking only when Cora directly addressed me. The pasta tasted like ash in my mouth. Every bite required deliberate effort to swallow.
Mr. Finch moved silently around us, refilling water glasses and removing empty plates. His eyes flicked between Damien and me, clearly noting the unusual silence stretching between us.
“This pasta is excellent,” Damien remarked, looking directly at me.
“Thank you,” I replied, still not meeting his gaze.
Cora’s bright chatter filled the awkward spaces between us. She didn’t seem to notice. the tension, too delighted to have both parents at the table.
“Mrs. Thorne always made the best pasta sauce,” Mr. Finch commented as he cleared Damien’s plate.
I stiffened at the title that no longer felt like mine. From the corner of my eye, I caught Damien’s slight frown.
His phone rang. He checked the screen before declining the call. “My mother,” he explained, though I hadn’t asked.
As if on cue, the house phone rang moments later. Mr. Finch answered in the hallway, then returned to the dining room.
“Mrs. Eleanor Thorne for you, sir,” he announced.
Damien excused himself and took the call in the adjacent room. His voice carried through the partially open door.
“Yes, Mother… I just returned early… No, Elara is here with Cora… His voice lowered,
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47 An Uneasy Calm, A Frosty Raception
but I still caught fragments. “Tomorrow?… A family trip?… Hot springs retreat…”
My stomach knotted. I’d come tonight solely for Cora. A family outing had not been part of the agreement I’d made with myself.
Damien returned to the table. “That was Grandmother, he told Cora. “She’s invited us
to the family hot spring retreat tomorrow.”
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Cora clapped her hands. “Yay! With the big water slide?”
“The very same,” Damien confirmed with a small smile.
His eyes shifted to me. “Mother insists the whole family attend. Apparently, it’s been too long since she’s seen all of us together.”
I took a measured sip of water. “I have work tomorrow.”
“It’s just for the weekend. You can join us after work, Damien replied smoothly. “I’ll have the car sent for you.”
His presumption – that familiar, easy control he’d always exercised – ignited a quiet anger in my chest.
“I’ll drive there after work, I stated, finally meeting his gaze directly.
Something flickered in his eyes – surprise, perhaps. He wasn’t accustomed to me contradicting his arrangements.
as you wish,” he conceded after a beat.
“As
Cora bounced in her chair, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Can we make s’mores like
last time, Daddy?”
As dinner concluded, I rose to clear the remaining dishes. Damien’s phone rang again – a different caller this time. He excused himself to take it, disappearing into his study. The familiar ritual reminded me of countless other nights, him retreating to work while I handled Cora’s bedtime routine.
Some things never changed, even when everything had.
After helping Cora prepare for bed, I found myself lingering in the hallway outside Damien’s study. His voice drifted through the partially closed door.
“Yes, I’ll have those documents ready… No, there’s been a change of plans for
47 An Uneasy Calm. A Frosty Raception.
tomorrow… Family obligation…”
I moved past silently, refusing to speculate on who was on the other end of that call. It no longer mattered to me who claimed his attention.
Tomorrow would be another test of my resolve – a weekend with the Thorne family, pretending that everything was normal when nothing was. But I would endure it for Cora’s sake, maintaining this uneasy calm while keeping Damien at arm’s length.
The n
guest room awaited me at the end of the hall – no longer our shared bedroom, but a neutral territory in this house that had once been my prison and my home.
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