The weight of the morning

Antonio closed the door to the small sitting room with deliberate care, ensuring the latch made no sound. Olivia stood near the window, arms crossed tightly, watching the early morning light filter across the manicured lawn.

Neither spoke at first.

They didn’t need to.

“You saw it too,” Olivia finally said, her voice low.

Antonio nodded once. “I did.”

“The way he looked at her,” she continued. “Not like a wife. Not even like a partner.”

Antonio leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. “Like a ruler looking at his equal.”

Olivia turned sharply. “That’s exactly it. And it scares me.”

Antonio’s jaw tightened. “It should.”

They both fell silent again, replaying the drama before in their minds,the raised voices behind closed doors, the sharp edge in Gabrielle’s tone when the oath was mentioned, the way Alexa didn’t back down. And then, later, the silence. Not the angry kind. The heavy, settled kind.

“The house feels different this morning,” Olivia said quietly.

Antonio’s gaze flicked towa