Dionisia's brows creased as she looked to the swirling golden liquid in her glass. At one point it would have been easy to just ask him—Is it your wife? Your baby? Did you have a rough day at work? They'd had regular visits for the sake of Elliott, but she'd been beginning to feel like she'd known him. Time had passed, though, and she didn't know where he drew his boundaries, so she glanced back up at him and then to the bartender who approached to fill his glass.
"I know what it's like," she sad, not meeting his eyes as she brought the glass to her lips again. "Some days it feels like the people who should know me best don't see me anymore." Ari—good, sweet Ari, who had never once gave her any reason to doubt his devotion to their little family despite everything else—had never really seen her, and she didn't think he ever would. Zelda had, at one point, but it hadn't been the same in a long time, not even after they'd reconciled. "But I guess that's easy when nobody knows the whole story." She looked at him then, a knowing look on her face. That he could understand, at least.
"I know what it's like," she sad, not meeting his eyes as she brought the glass to her lips again. "Some days it feels like the people who should know me best don't see me anymore." Ari—good, sweet Ari, who had never once gave her any reason to doubt his devotion to their little family despite everything else—had never really seen her, and she didn't think he ever would. Zelda had, at one point, but it hadn't been the same in a long time, not even after they'd reconciled. "But I guess that's easy when nobody knows the whole story." She looked at him then, a knowing look on her face. That he could understand, at least.
