Dinner had ended almost half an hour earlier.
The dishes sat neatly stacked beside the sink while warm water ran quietly over Malissa's hands.
Outside, night had settled comfortably around Evermere.
The gardens beyond the windows had disappeared into darkness, leaving only the occasional glow of pathway lights scattered throughout the estate grounds.
Behind her, she heard footsteps.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Alexander crossed toward the illuminated glass wine display built into the wall near the dining area.
Soft amber lighting illuminated the rows of bottles resting horizontally behind crystal clear panels, each bottle positioned with almost architectural precision.
He studied the selection briefly before reaching for one near the center. A few moments later, the soft sound of glass touching marble reached the kitchen.
"Wine?"
Malissa looked up.
He was already holding a second glass. She hesitated only briefly.
"Sure."
A few moments later she found herself sitting across from him in the living room with a glass of wine in her hand.
Several minutes passed and neither of them spoke.
Surprisingly...
The silence wasn't awkward.
It simply existed.
Malissa took a small sip.
The wine tasted expensive.
Not that she had enough experience with wine to know the difference.
Still...
She suspected this bottle alone probably cost more than her monthly salary at Aurora Publishing.
The thought almost made her laugh.
Alexander noticed.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
He waited.
Eventually she sighed.
"I was just wondering how much this bottle costs."
His expression remained unchanged.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"No."
She stared at him.
"How do you not know?"
"I never asked."
That somehow felt even more ridiculous.
She shook her head.
"Rich people are unbelievable."
Alexander took another sip.
"So I've been told."
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly.
Neither of them spoke again for a while.
"I sent more applications today."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Alexander looked toward her.
"Design positions?"
She nodded.
"Mostly freelance opportunities."
"Any responses?"
"Not yet."
A small smile appeared on her face.
"But at least nobody rejected me today."
Alexander said nothing.
Not because he wasn't listening.
Because he was.
She looked down at her glass.
"I think I've decided I'm too stubborn to quit."
He waited.
A small smile touched her lips.
"Stubbornness helps sometimes." Another sip.
Another silence.
"I always wanted to be a designer."
The words felt strange spoken aloud.
Almost unreal.
"I had everything planned."
She laughed softly.
"Or at least I thought I did."
Alexander remained quiet.
Giving her room to continue.
"There was a scholarship overseas."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
"I got in."
He looked toward her.
"You never went."
She shook her head.
"My mother needed treatment."
A small shrug followed.
"Dreams don't pay hospital bills."
The sentence came easily.
Far too easily.
Perhaps because she had repeated it to herself often enough over the years that it had stopped hurting quite so much.
"I took the publishing job because it was stable."
She smiled faintly.
"It wasn't what I wanted."
"But it was what we needed."
The room fell quiet once more.
Not uncomfortable.
Simply thoughtful.
Eventually she looked toward him.
"What about you?"
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
"What about me?"
"When did you decide you wanted to run a conglomerate?"
The question almost earned something dangerously close to amusement from him.
"I didn't."
She blinked.
"You didn't?"
"It was expected."
"That's different."
"Not really."
She frowned.
"It is."
Alexander leaned back slightly.
"Marquez Technologies was always going to be mine eventually."
"There wasn't much deciding involved."
She considered that.
"That sounds exhausting."
For the first time that evening, something resembling amusement appeared briefly in his eyes.
"It can be."
She looked at him for a moment.
"You work a lot."
"Yes."
"Too much."
"Probably."
The answer came so easily that she laughed.
"You agree?"
"I don't have much choice."
Silence settled comfortably between them once more.
Alexander looked toward the wine in his glass.
"You asked where I learned to cook."
The words caught her by surprise.
She nodded slowly.
"I remember."
For a second he said nothing.
"My mother liked cooking."
The answer wasn't what she expected.
"Despite the chefs?"
"Despite the chefs."
A small silence followed.
"She said food tasted different when you made it yourself."
He looked down at the wine in his glass.
"After her accident she was in a coma for a while."
The words came calmly.
Without emotion.
Without hesitation.
Simply facts.
"I started learning because there wasn't much else I could do."
Malissa remained silent.
He continued staring at the amber liquid in his glass for a moment.
"I thought..."
The sentence stopped there.
For a moment she thought he wouldn't continue.
"I thought if she woke up, I'd make her favorite meal."
Something tightened painfully in her chest.
Not because of what he said.
Because of how simply he had said it.
As though it wasn't one of the saddest things she had ever heard.
Neither spoke for several moments.
Eventually she asked quietly:
"Did she wake up?"
Alexander nodded once.
"Yes."
Relief passed through her immediately.
Good.
At least that part had ended well.
After a moment she looked toward him again.
"You and your father seem..."
She hesitated.
"Distant?"
He looked toward her.
"A little."
Alexander considered the question.
"We aren't."
She waited.
"That's simply how we communicate."
The answer somehow made perfect sense.
She smiled faintly.
"I suppose every family is different."
"Yes."
Another silence settled comfortably between them.
This one felt different.
Lighter somehow.
Outside, the wind brushed softly against the windows.
Somewhere in the distance, a television report quietly played from one of the adjoining rooms.
"...health officials continue reporting improved recovery rates..."
"...several regions are considering gradual easing of restrictions should current trends continue..."
"...citizens are still advised to remain cautious..."
Neither commented on it.
Neither needed to.
Eventually Malissa glanced down at her empty glass.
"So there's hope."
Alexander looked toward her.
"For the lockdown."
He followed her gaze toward the television.
"Perhaps."
The thought felt strangely bittersweet.
Because somehow since arriving at Evermere....
Leaving no longer sounded quite as simple as it once.
Neither of them said it aloud.
Neither needed to.
Yet the thought lingered quietly between them all the same.
Like the final warmth left behind in an empty glass of wine.