Esme's gaze remained focused on Ray, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she peeled another slice of fruit. "I asked," she repeated, her voice now carrying a cutting edge, "why are you all here so early? Or is it that you've become so old and irrelevant that you've forgotten how to explain yourselves?"
The insult was subtle but sharp, and the elders flinched at her words. The oldest among them, a man in his sixties with a stiff expression, clenched his jaw, trying to restrain his anger. His eyes flicked from Ray, who continued to eat in blissful ignorance, back to Esme. She didn't offer them a seat, didn't extend any pleasantries—nothing. Instead, she continued to treat them like an audience to her private affair with Ray.
