Felix let out a deep, long-suffering sigh as he leaned back into the armchair, the soft fabric groaning faintly beneath him. Across from him, seated gracefully on the cream velvet couch like she was posing for a painting, was his mother—The Honorable Veronica M. Crawford—sipping her tea with such delicate elegance that he wouldn't be surprised if even the tea felt honored to be chosen.
Her perfectly manicured pinky hovered in the air like a feather. Her back was straight, her pearl earrings catching the light every time she moved. Felix rubbed his face once, then exhaled again.
He hadn't expected this.
All he wanted to do was check why Maya was taking so long in the hallway. He thought maybe she got distracted by the decorative vase again or forgot where the cinema room was. What he didn't expect was to find her opening the door for his mother.
Just casually.
Like this was normal.
