The clinking of silverware against porcelain fills the dining room, underscored by the soft hum of the chandelier's dimmed lights. Sophia sits at one end of the long, polished dining table, her plate of roasted salmon and vegetables barely touched. At the other end, Alexander eats with practiced ease, the embodiment of composure.
She's still getting used to this—to him. To the cavernous house that feels more like a museum than a home. To the weight of the wedding ring on her finger. Her gaze lingers on it for a moment before Alexander's voice cuts through her thoughts.
"You've barely touched your food," he remarks, his tone neutral but observant. His dark eyes lift to meet hers.
Sophia straightens slightly in her chair. "I'm not that hungry," she admits. "It's just… a lot to process."
"Understandable," he says, setting his fork down neatly. "But you'll need your energy. We have more ahead of us than just adjusting to new surroundings."
