Mrs. Wen finds me in the study around four in the afternoon.
"Young Master," she says carefully, standing in the doorway. "Madam Wuchen has requested that dinner be taken together this evening. The family will gather at seven."
It's not phrased as a question, not presented as an option I can decline, just a simple statement of fact: dinner will be taken together, and I am expected to be there.
I look up from my laptop, where I've been staring at the same circulation diagram for the past twenty minutes without actually seeing it.
"Understood," I say.
Mrs. Wen nods once and retreats, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes.
Of course.
Of course Grandmother would do this now, would enforce the routine of family dinners precisely when I've been avoiding them, when the idea of sitting across from Bael and pretending everything is normal feels impossible.
But there's no practical way to refuse.
