There was a flicker of something across Alexandria's face—surprise, maybe. Confusion. Hurt? But it passed quickly, replaced with that same serene smile she always wore like a perfectly painted mask. The kind of smile that was practiced. Measured.
Empty.
"Of course," she said smoothly, though her voice had lost that melodic lightness. It was too even. Too composed. "I understand."
She rose gracefully from her seat, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. Every movement was precise—elegant. Detached. As if she hadn't just witnessed a man unraveling into Florian's arms. As if this were all some ordinary tea break in a sunlit sitting room.
She didn't ask questions.
She didn't linger.
"I'll visit another time. Thank you for the tea," she added, bowing her head just slightly, her tone now perfectly neutral. But then she paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle.
"And good luck tomorrow."
