Or maybe not.
The need to check burns beneath her skin.
God, she hates that dependence, that adolescent anxiety she can’t control.
She discreetly turns away from the garden and pulls out her phone for just a second.
A work email.
Nothing else.
No sign of Nerissa.
The emptiness that follows is equally ridiculous and devastating.
When she looks up, she finds Oliver watching her.
The boy stands on the terrace holding a can of soda, studying her with a seriousness that sends a chill through her.
Oliver has always noticed too much.
“Is something wrong at work, Mom?” he asks.
Seraphina slips her phone away too quickly.
“No, sweetheart. Just... a pending issue with the clinics.”
Oliver’s gaze briefly drops to the pocket where she has just hidden the phone.
Normally he would smile.
This time, he only looks at her.
Seraphina has the unbearable sensation of being scrutinized by someone incapable of accepting the lies she’s feeding him.
“It’s just that sometimes you look at your phone like you’re scared,” the boy whispers before turning away and heading back into the garden.
The effect of those words is devastating.
Seraphina remains frozen beside the counter, her hands ice-cold.
It isn’t Elliot who’s beginning to notice the cracks.
It’s her own children.
That realization sends a wave of genuine panic through her.
She leans against the marble countertop for several seconds, trying to breathe normally while the voices from the garden drift in, muffled by distance.
Elliot is laughing with Stefan.
Ivy is chasing the ball.
Life goes on, seemingly perfect.
And she is destroying it from within.
The afternoon drags on until it slowly gives way to evening. The warm garden lights replace the sun, and the temperature drops. Guests begin saying their goodbyes with hugs. Seraphina keeps smiling until the very last moment, the very last farewell, and when the front door finally closes behind them and the house falls silent, exhaustion crashes over her.
