“Is there something wrong, sweetheart?”
When Ashy lifted her gaze from her dish of sliced fruit, the spark of joy from earlier when they had collected the garment, dissipated gradually.
“No.” She smiled, but it was hard and strained.
“This is your mum speaking.” Lizella raised one perfectly sculpted brow. “What's the matter?”
The younger man stabbed a slice of melon with her fork.
"I'm concerned about Cristian."
“Why?” Lizella placed her fork down.
“He appears to be...stressed lately,” Ashly said. “Preoccupied. We used to speak about the wedding all the time, making preparations for after we got married. But now...” Her lips pulled together as she gazed at the untouched apple nearby. “He doesn't even bring it up.” And when I do, it's almost as though it makes him uncomfortable.”
Li
