IMOGEN'S POV
The clink of silverware against porcelain punctuated the uneasy silence. I glanced up from my plate, catching Isaac's eye for a fleeting moment before we both looked away.
Perhaps it was a dumb choice to let his mother convince me to stay for dinner before I left.
His mother, Josephine, cleared her throat softly.
"So, Imogen," she said, her voice warm but probing. "What keeps you busy these days?"
I set down my fork, grateful for the distraction. "Oh, not much really. I used to dance ballet and play piano. Went to college too, but..." I trailed off, twirling my wedding ring even though there was nothing spectacular about the chunk of stone and metal anymore. "My husband's family is rather traditional."
Josephine nodded, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "A housewife. Well, family is a blessing. But it's good to have outlets too, don't you think?"
