There was something distinctly human about the conflict taking place behind the young Mrs Zabini's oceanic eyes — should she take the peppermint, perchance to feel better? Or should she deny the offering, perchance to feel higher? Ama did not enjoy watching the conflict play out, but she found it faintly interesting, this touch of humanity. A slight tug of a reminder that they were, after everything, just two people.

Two Mrs Zabinis, to be more pertinent.

"I haven't, no indeed", she confirmed with slight surprise at the question. Quill and parchment remained unused for now, mid-hesitance, as she was distracted from her plan to write a help note.

"That part of my story is quite over", Ama added, and could not hide a note of gentle contentment in her words. Not relief, exactly — for Cosmo had been, and remained, the love of her life — but there was a great freedom about deciding she no longer wanted the life of a wife.

Instead she simply wanted the life of Ama. And she was living it. Amid the disapproving reputation of an eccentric divorcee, yes... but such a title had proved more fun than she could've possibly imagined.