“It’s fine,” she said softly after a moment. “I’m not feeling great tonight. I’ll skip dinner. You two go ahead.”
She turned before either of them could see her expression and began making her way toward the staircase, gripping the railing for balance.
Behind her, Olivia’s voice rose in exaggerated concern. “Adriana? Are you upset because I didn’t wait for you?”
Nathanie’s low chuckle followed.
“You think too much,” he said, reaching out to pat Olivia’s head in an almost indulgent gesture. “She twisted her ankle earlier. She’s just uncomfortable.”
The easy familiarity of it—the way his hand lingered in Olivia’s hair—made Adriana pause for a split second.
She glanced back without meaning to.
Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something.
In the end, she said nothing.
Only a quiet exhale left her as she continued upstairs and shut herself inside the master bedroom.
The silence there felt thicker.
Her mind replayed the day against her will. Olivia’s single call had been enough for Nathanie to drop everything and rush home. Meanwhile, she had limped through the hospital alone, waited alone, returned alone.
The comparison cut deep.