Dinner had started as usual, with the warm laughter of Anna and Paolo resonating in the small dining room. The table was covered with delicious dishes: freshly picked vegetables, a perfectly roasted meat, and bread still warm from the oven. Ezran, true to himself, was making jokes to liven up the atmosphere, drawing laughter from Paolo and exasperated but amused sighs from Anna.
Yet, amid this warmth and joy, I felt detached. The fragments of memories from the afternoon continued to swirl in my mind, preventing me from focusing on the conversations or even the flavors of the dishes. My smile was forced, my responses were mechanical, and I knew that Anna, with her attentive gaze, noticed.
"Murielle, my dear, you are very quiet tonight," she said softly, placing her hand on mine. "Is everything okay?"
