Patricia's smile faded, pain returning, eyes dimming. "Because of the rumors. The judgment. Everyone knows Richard had an affair with an escort. Everyone knows Peter is that escort's son. If I showed Peter any affection, any kindness... people would think I was weak. Or stupid. Or that I was acknowledging Richard's affair in some way." Her voice broke, tears welling again, the weight of societal cruelty crushing her.
She sighed, a heavy, weary exhale that carried the weight of decades, her breath warm against his chest. "It's easier to play the part people expect. The bitter, scorned wife who hates everything connected to her husband's past. Let them think I hate Peter. Let them think I wanted him gone. It's safer that way." Her voice was laced with resignation, tears drying on her cheeks, but pain still raw.
"Do you hate Linda?" Eros asked, voice soft, probing gently, his fingers still threading through her hair. "Peter's mother?"
