The clatter of utensils echoed softly, a strangely delicate sound in the stillness that had settled over Kainal's home.
Each metallic scrape against porcelain reverberated like a bell through the otherwise hushed dining room. The three of us sat at our respective seats, forming a quiet, uneven triangle around the table.
Naime was seated beside Kainal, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes glinting with curiosity.
I sat opposite them, at the far side of the dining table, feeling as though an invisible line had been drawn between our sides.
My gaze drifted toward the food laid out on the platter before me. It was an odd mix—some kind of tuna-like meat combined with vegetables I couldn't even begin to identify.
The greens had strange, jagged edges and pulsed faintly as if they were still alive. Even the so-called tuna wasn't actually tuna.
