My sister's husband

Queenie scheduled dinner so casually, as if it weren't a rare meeting with her brother, but some forgotten family ritual. A short message arrived late in the evening: come over, just let's talk. No reason. Koro read it twice—a habit. You never know from your sister how much meaning is embedded in such simple words.

The country house greeted him with warm light from the windows and an all-too-perfect silence. Koro always thought everything here was in its place, a little too perfectly—from the gravel along the path to the neatly trimmed bushes. This was… not his space. Queenie opened the door herself. She smiled—that smile where you can't immediately tell whether she's happy or just trying to be polite. She hugged him quickly, almost formally, and immediately began talking—about the road, the weather, how dinner would soon be ready. As always, casually, between themselves.

Kane appeared a little later. He emerged from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, and paused for a moment when he saw Koro. His gaze was attentive, appraising, but without overt aggression. It was too calm for a man of his height and such strong shoulders.

• Nice to meet you again.

He said, extending his hand. Koro shook it. The handshake was shorter than necessary, but firmer than he'd liked. For a second, their gazes locked—blue on green on blue. The strange asymmetry of Kane's eyes somehow always caught his attention more than anything else.

At the table, Queenie tried to keep the conversation within safe boundaries. She spoke louder than anyone else, as if terrified of pauses. About Kane's work, about the house, about how they hadn't invited anyone over in a while. Sometimes she asked Corot questions, but didn't wait for detailed answers, as if that wasn't what the whole thing was about.

Kane, on the other hand, was mostly silent. He ate calmly, carefully, but periodically glanced at Koro, not head-on, but out of the corner of his eye, as if checking something internal. At one point, he noticed that Koro was barely touching his food.

— Don't like it?

He asked evenly.