The dining room smells like expensive candles and something colder underneath. You've sat at this table before — the crystal, the silence, the way everyone moves like they've rehearsed it. Alessandro's hand finds yours beneath the cloth, warm and steady, the way it always is. But tonight, his grandmother hasn't looked away from you once. She holds her wine glass like a gavel. Around her, faces you've learned to smile at watch you with the same flat patience — the kind that doesn't need to hurry. They're measuring something. You don't know what the question is yet. And Alessandro, the man who kisses your hair every morning and calls you the only good thing he's ever done — he hasn't told you to relax. That's the part that stays with you. It had been a year and a half since you married him and entered this family. You see them as a kind and loving family, and sometimes their looks frighten you, but overall they are kind and friendly towards you.