Chapter 183: Sanctuary
"Why don’t you two join us for dinner tonight?" Celia’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of hesitance beneath her words.
I glance at her, taking in the resemblance she bears to Thorne. There’s something in her expression, a quiet nervousness, as though she’s expecting me to turn her down, to dislike her for some imagined slight.
But I don’t dislike her. Neither does Thorne, for that matter. If anything, we’re indifferent. She’s like a stranger who happens to share a familial bond with my husband—a distant figure neither close enough to have affection for nor far enough to resent.
"Sure," I reply with a polite smile, my hand resting lightly on Mirelle’s back. My little girl is fast asleep, her tiny breaths soft against my chest.
Celia’s shoulders relax, her relief almost palpable, and she nods before stepping away, retreating toward the house. As she leaves, I take a moment to study her. She’s undeniably beautiful, with her midnight-black hair and those piercing blue eyes that seem to cut through the world. There’s a grace to her movements, an elegance that speaks of her years as a duchess. For a fleeting moment, I see a hint of Mirelle in her—the eyes and hair, well that’s a given she is my husband’s mother after all.
I lean back into the gentle motion of the rocking chair, the soft creak of the wood blending with the sounds of the garden. The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the ground. It’s warm, the kind of warmth that seeps into your bones and makes your eyelids heavy.
Mirelle stirs slightly against me, her little hands clutching at the fabric of my shirt. I tap her shoulder lightly, a soothing rhythm that seems to settle her back into sleep. My mind drifts as I rock us both, lulled by the quiet serenity of the garden.
Celia’s invitation lingers in my thoughts, mingling with the distant sounds of birdsong. Dinner tonight.
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