The evening unfolded with a tense normalcy, the children’s laughter a distant echo in the hallways.
I joined them for dinner, their chatter a welcome distraction from the day’s revelations.
The nanny moved through the room with her usual grace, her presence a calm amidst my inner turmoil.
She served the meal with practiced efficiency, never lingering too long in one place.
“How was your day?” I asked, testing the waters of a conversation not yet had.
She met my gaze briefly, her eyes a pool of unreadable depths.
“Quiet,” she replied, her voice steady.
Her answer left much unsaid, a surface calm that hid deeper currents.
“The children seem to like your stories,” I ventured, watching her carefully.
A faint smile touched her lips, gone as quickly as it appeared.
