Arthur frowned. He knew every nuance of her—the dryness in her reply, her lowered gaze, the tension in her shoulders. Something was wrong.

“Are you really okay, Zoe?”

She didn’t answer. She remained silent, eyes fixed on some random spot on the table. The silence grew between them, and then, in an instant, a tear slipped quietly down Zoe’s face.

Arthur leaned in slowly, reaching out and gently touching her hand.

“Talk to me, love. What happened?”

Zoe shook her head, eyes glistening.

“If I could