Later that evening, Kathrine and Ethan stopped by a quiet restaurant for dinner. The atmosphere was warm, soft lighting reflecting off polished tables, low music humming in the background. It should have felt peaceful.
But Ethan had barely touched his food.
He sat across from her, nodding occasionally, yet his eyes seemed distant. He responded a second too late, smiled a second too forced.
Kathrine sighed softly.
"What is going on in that mind of yours?" she asked, setting her glass down carefully.
Ethan blinked, as if pulled back from somewhere far away. He looked at her, then quickly forced a small smile and shook his head.
"Nothing," he said lightly. "By the way, what were you saying?"
Kathrine stared at him for a moment.
She placed her fork down deliberately and leaned forward, resting her crossed hands on the table.
"If you were listening, you would not have asked," she replied calmly. "So tell me, Ethan. What are you thinking about? Is it about… your father?"
