Arthur and Layla sat on opposite ends of the long sofa, separated by enough space to make their mutual discomfort obvious.
The living room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Soft evening light filtered through the wide windows, falling across the polished floor and the expensive furniture. Under different circumstances, the room might have felt warm and peaceful.
Instead, it felt like a battlefield.
Layla glared daggers at Arthur from across the sofa.
Arthur, meanwhile, leaned back comfortably as though he had not just been forcefully moved into her home by Athena.
Layla let out a long, exhausted sigh and pressed a hand to her forehead.
"How did it come to this?"
Arthur glanced at her.
"You tell me," he said. "You are the reason I am in this mess."
Layla's mouth twitched.
Then she turned toward him, her irritation finally overflowing.
"Well, I did not know she would do something like this, okay?" she yelled. "Do you think I wanted to suddenly have you living in my house?"
