Loving someone who didn't love you back, Silveria decided, was like carrying a lit candle through a windy house.
You spent all your effort shielding the flame. You cupped it in both hands. You walked slowly. You kept your face calm so nobody would see how much light was in it. And every time a door opened, you were sure it would go out.
The days after Thursday were the hardest she had ever lived through, and nothing terrible happened in any of them.
That was the cruel part. Damien was kind. He was careful. He came home for dinner on Friday and sat across from her at the long table and asked about her day. He asked it in his flat, polite voice, like a man reading from a card. She told him about the silk order. He nodded. He said "I see." At the end of the meal he said "Thank you for the company," and went to his study, and she sat there with her fork in her hand and wanted to scream.
