The corner of her own mouth had moved before her brain had given it permission. She caught the movement. She returned her face to its careful neutrality. She picked up the next piece of toast.
Olga's next question arrived softly, in the same conversational register the food preferences had occupied, and it landed in Cixi's throat before her brain had time to brace.
"Are you planning to adopt the baby. To show that you really have one."
Cixi coughed.
A small, hard, unprepared cough. The toast wedged in the wrong part of her throat. Her eyes watered.
Olga lifted the water glass from her own side of the tray and passed it across.
Cixi took it. She drank. She set the glass down. She did not look at Olga immediately.
"It is not going to drag on that long." Her voice was hoarse. "Once he comes back, the act will be over."
