Chapter 29
~ Franklin ~
The next morning, the air in the dining room was thick with a tension that made every clink of a spoon sound like a gunshot.
Octavia and I sat through another quiet, hollow breakfast. I remembered the way Olga had cornered me in the study last night, her eyes pleading for Octavia's safety, so I forced myself to speak.
"Is everything okay with you?" I asked, the words feeling heavy and artificial.
She looked up at me, and for a moment, I was struck by how hollow she looked. She looked as if she hadn't slept in days; dark bags of fatigue hung under her eyes, and her skin was unnervingly pale.
"Yes. I'm fine," she said curtly, her focus returning to her oats.
"I'm asking because of how you look... you look stressed out," I said.
She scoffed, a jagged, sarcastic smile twisting her lips.
"Like you actually care," she mumbled.
"You're right, I don't care. But I have the right to ask. I'm your husband, remember?"
