By the fourth day, a routine has carved itself into my life.
Wake at seven. Breakfast in the dining room…alone, usually, though Grandmother occasionally appears to observe my table manners with critical eyes. Etiquette training from eight to ten, Lunch at noon, sometimes alone, sometimes with Bael sitting at the opposite end in silence.
More training in the afternoon… speech, posture, how to smile without looking like I'm dying inside. Dinner varies. Sometimes alone in my room, sometimes in the dining room with Grandmother, who uses the meal as another opportunity to correct my every movement.
It's suffocating, but at least it's predictable.
Bael has tried talking to me.
Little things. "How are you feeling?" "Is the food okay?" "Did you sleep alright?"
I ignore him every time.
After three days, he seems to be getting the message. His attempts have become less frequent, the silence at meals has settled into something expected.
