“Peter, you returned earlier than expected,” Audrey said sweetly, her tone transformed instantly. “I was simply discussing minor household arrangements with your mother.”
Peter offered no immediate response.
Instead, his gaze settled upon Margot, whose shoulders curved inward beneath invisible pressure, eyes reddened behind trembling glasses clutched uncertainly within her hands. The aroma of stew lingered warmly throughout the kitchen, stirring memories of childhood evenings defined by resilience, tenderness, and unconditional love.
“Mother,” Peter whispered softly, emotion tightening his throat painfully.
Margot’s expression softened with bittersweet relief.
“Peter, welcome home, my dear,” she murmured gently, attempting a reassuring smile despite lingering distress.
Audrey exhaled sharply, impatience resurfacing beneath her polished exterior.
“Let us not dramatize a simple conversation,” Audrey insisted calmly. “I was merely establishing reasonable expectations consistent with our social environment.”
Peter’s voice remained steady, though grief pulsed beneath each word.