Seeing that the two were about to leave, Lola hurried to the door to see them off. As Kent went to get the car, she leaned in and whispered to Silvia, “Silvia, try to communicate more with Kent. It’ll do wonders for your relationship.”
Silvia forced a small smile and nodded, offering no argument to her mother’s advice.
She climbed into Kent’s car, then glanced back at Lola standing in the doorway. A sudden pang of longing tugged at her heart.
Kent’s voice broke her reverie, calm and even as always. “Are you already wishing you could go back?”
Silvia shook her head, eyes lowered. “No, it’s not that. I’m just… not used to all this.”
“Not used to what?” Kent asked, then let out a quiet sigh. “Silvia, I remember every promise I made to you before our marriage. I haven’t forgotten.”
“Yeah, I know,” Silvia replied absently, as if she hadn’t really given his words much thought.
Catching the indifferent look on her face, Kent found himself at a loss for what to say next. All he could do was remind himself to take things slowly.
When they got home, Silvia didn’t say another word to him. She went straight to her room to rest.
Watching her retreating, unyielding back, Kent exhaled slowly, raising his hand to rub his brow. His eyes, usually sharp and composed, carried a trace of helplessness.
...
The next morning, Silvia woke and stepped out of her room. As usual, she found breakfast waiting on the table.
Kent’s attentiveness always seemed to show in these small, practical gestures.
The longer Silvia spent around Kent, the more her impression of him changed. He was polite, considerate, always knowing when to step in and when to give space—never crossing the line or making her uncomfortable.

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