"She's coming home tomorrow."
The older man looked up from his work, his hands stilling over the papers as he turned toward his wife in surprise.
"So soon?" he asked, his voice laced with cautious hope. "Does she really... hold nothing against us?"
Marianna gave him a small, sad smile. She stepped closer and gently rested a hand on the back of the chair, her fingers curling slightly around the edge.
"No," she said quietly, almost apologetically. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to get your hopes up like that. I should have worded it better. What I meant was… Melanie is coming over tomorrow, but it's not personal. She's coming in a professional capacity."
She paused, drawing in a breath as though the next words needed to be measured carefully. Then she took a few slow steps forward and added, more deliberately now, "I don't think she recognised me, at least not yet. If she does recognise you… I don't know how she'll respond. There's no way to tell."
