The morning went on as usual.
Well—mostly.
She'd taken it upon herself to make breakfast, partly out of guilt. Asher had cooked the morning before, and that just didn't sit right with her.
Oddly, he hadn't slept in the bed last night.
She wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.
Avoidance? Maybe.
Like she was some kind of plague.
Then again, what did it matter? They were practically strangers. Husband or not.
She finished setting the dining table and turned to go get dressed. She'd eat after.
---
"You're finally done," a voice said as she came downstairs.
To her surprise, Asher was already there, seated—but not eating.
She blinked. "Why aren't you eating? Don't you like the food?"
He smiled. That annoyingly unreadable smile of his. "I was waiting for you."
She paused mid-step, her brow twitching slightly.
Waiting for me?
"Am I supposed to feel happy about that?" she asked dryly, taking her seat.
He chuckled softly and shook his head. "You asked why I wasn't eating. I gave you a reply. I didn't say you had to feel anything about it."
That earned a brief scowl from her.
"Let's eat," he added, finally picking up his plate.
She stared for a second longer, then followed suit.
---
Silence settled between them. The only sound was the soft clink of cutlery meeting porcelain.
Oddly enough... it wasn't uncomfortable.
The quiet felt familiar. Safe, even.
Out of nowhere, Asher spoke. "How's the company?"
She looked up, startled. She hadn't expected him to ask.
"It's doing good," she said, then added, "How's yours?"
"Good."
And just like that, the silence returned.
Once they were done, Asher stood. "Wait for me by the car. I'll drop you off."
She opened her mouth to argue, but stopped.
Instead, she nodded and headed out, while he took the dishes to the kitchen.
---
They were on the road when he broke the silence again.
"I was thinking… why don't we go out this Saturday?"
She turned to look at him. No reply.
"You know," he continued, "get to know each other better. It might be good for the marriage."
She thought about it.
It didn't sound like a terrible idea. In fact, it might work in her favor.
She needed all the information she could get on him. The sooner she figured out his routines and weaknesses, the sooner she could start planning.
"Sure," she said simply.
---
Later, at the office, her secretary caught up to her just as she was entering the building.
"Ma'am—Mrs. Mira is here."
She froze.
"What do you mean?" Her voice was low. Controlled.
"I—I'm sorry, ma'am. I tried to stop her. But she said she wasn't leaving without seeing you."
Her breath caught for half a second.
She said nothing. Just stared. Then turned and walked briskly toward her office.
Her hand hovered on the doorknob for a long moment before she finally opened the door.
There she was.
Sitting with the same perfect poise, the same subtle smugness.
Mrs. Mira.
The woman who was supposed to be her mother.
"Hello… Mother."