When she reached the kitchen and approached the water dispenser, she automatically reached for her usual cup.
It wasn’t there.
In its place sat a new porcelain mug—delicate, unfamiliar.
She didn’t need to ask whose it was.
The porcelain cup sitting on the counter wasn’t random.
It was part of a matching pair.
One identical to the one Nathanie used every morning.
“Adriana… I’m really sorry,” Olivia said softly, lifting the new cup with both hands. “I dropped yours earlier by accident. It shattered. If you don’t mind, you can use mine for now.”
She smiled in that sweet, harmless way she had perfected over the years.
Adriana looked at the cup without expression.
She didn’t answer.
Nathanie, however, spoke up before she could.
“Olivia, don’t worry about it,” he said casually. “It’s just a cup. There are dozens in this house.”
Just a cup.
Adriana’s fingers curled at her sides.
That cup had not been ordinary.
It was the one they had used during their engagement ritual—the one they had raised together before the elders when their bond was announced. She had washed it herself every time. Kept it carefully on the highest shelf.
To her, it had meant something.
To him, it was replaceable.