This could have been an easy situation. Right through the kitchen was the backdoor, where she kept a miniature greenhouse that had some of the soothing salve that she used whenever she got cuts of burns. It would have taken five, maybe ten minutes tops. She turned around to head in that direction, already mentally preparing the directions to tell Zelda, then... Ari. Dionisia stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him with a stiff, straight-faced expression.
He knew. She knew he did. She may not be in love with him, but living with someone for a while—especially a man who did not shy away from showing emotion—made it easy to figure out what he was feeling. There was a cadence to his greeting that sounded almost like victory, like he was already preparing to say something. She knew it, but she couldn't tell Zelda, who was already lying. She had to lie and hoped Ari—her husband—understood the importance of sisterhood.
"It is not a matter a man should concern himself with," she replied. It was technically the truth. She moved forward, as if she was about to pass him, then stopped and placed a gentle hand on his arm. It might have looked affectionate, but it was a warning. A plead.
Don't do this.
He knew. She knew he did. She may not be in love with him, but living with someone for a while—especially a man who did not shy away from showing emotion—made it easy to figure out what he was feeling. There was a cadence to his greeting that sounded almost like victory, like he was already preparing to say something. She knew it, but she couldn't tell Zelda, who was already lying. She had to lie and hoped Ari—her husband—understood the importance of sisterhood.
"It is not a matter a man should concern himself with," she replied. It was technically the truth. She moved forward, as if she was about to pass him, then stopped and placed a gentle hand on his arm. It might have looked affectionate, but it was a warning. A plead.
Don't do this.
