The living room held its tension quietly.
Lady Irina sat between her two sons, the three of them folded into each other's presence the way people did when words had reached their limit and proximity was the only thing left to offer.
Venedikt and Andrei fielded her questions patiently about their father, about what his life had looked like in the years between, about the shape of a captivity none of them had words that quite fit. She listened to each answer with the focused stillness of a woman determined to understand the full scope of everything, no matter how much grief it all cost her.
Kathleen had positioned herself close without inserting herself, the particular skill of a woman who knew when her presence was enough and her voice was not needed.
Sophia and Saahira had quietly excused themselves sometime earlier, slipping away to Sophia's room, understanding they were giving a family space that belonged only to them.
Alex had taken himself outside.
