The plate was still where she'd left it, untouched, cooling beside her half-finished cup of coffee.
I sat there for a while, tracing lazy circles against the rim of my own mug, staring at the chair across from me like it might fill itself if I waited long enough.
Aline's footsteps echoed faintly from the kitchen before fading again. She must've known better than to ask if we wanted seconds.
After a while, I pushed back my chair and stood. The stairs felt longer than usual on the way up.
When I reached our room, she was standing in front of the mirror. Her back was to me, one hand fixing the clasp of her earring while the other smoothed down her dress — navy blue, form-fitting, elegant in the way everything she wore seemed to be without even trying.
For a second, I just stood there, quiet, watching. There were still moments like this, when she looked almost unreal. Like the world hadn't gotten to her yet.
She turned when she noticed my reflection behind her.
