#11: An Uncomfortable Dinner
“I am Cecelia,” she said, as if clarifying a rule. “You are the girl who will marry my son.” Freya kept her smile steady, puzzled by the condescension delivered before any real exchange. At dinner, conversation split into two currents. Ken asked about her father and brother, laughed easily, and refilled her glass with gentle attention.
Cecelia moved food around her plate and studied Freya as if measuring risk. When Leon spoke, Cecelia’s face softened. When Freya answered, it tightened again. Freya told stories, listened closely, and tried kindness from every angle, yet nothing seemed to unlock the room. Tonight.