The morning light slanted through the glass, catching on the loose strands of her hair. Ilaria licked the crumbs from her lips and tilted her head, studying her husband as if his silence might shift if she smiled brightly enough.
He did not.
Still, she took a bite of the bun while humming under her breath, pretending not to notice the weight of his gaze when he opened his eyes. It was easier that way, to act as though he was not tired, or angry, or carrying shadows she could not reach else she would find him far away from her again.
Her chest squeezed, but she pushed it aside and swung her legs idly from her perch on the branch. He looked tired, she thought. Moody, even. But maybe if I tried again tomorrow, he'll finally smile.
