Before dinner was even served, the rest of the family trickled into the estate.

Emerson and Margaret Griffin had three children: their eldest son, Roman; their eldest daughter, Adelaide; and their youngest son, Kaisen.

Adelaide had married earlier than her brother, so she arrived with her husband in tow. As for Kaisen, he was still in the thick of his university years. With everyone present on this first day of the New Year, dinner was moved to the formal dining hall. Unlike the chaotic bustle of the wedding day, the table felt intimate—perhaps too intimate—as there were no outsiders to buffer the sharp, lingering gazes and the probing questions.

Adelaide turned to her brother the moment she sat down. "Why aren't you living at Blue Springs? I’m so lonely staying there by myself!"

Roman didn’t even glance up. "You don't look particularly lonely to me."

"But that's your designated marital home! You’re leaving it empty while letting your wife cram into that little 'pigeon coop' of an apartment. Are you trying to make Violette suffer?"

The "pigeon coop" Adelaide referred to was a high-end luxury high-rise in the heart of the Financial District, where the smallest unit spanned 3,000 square feet. The place Roman and Violette currently occupied was nearly 5,400 square feet; it was hardly a shack. But compared to the sprawling private gardens and swimming pool at Blue Springs, it paled in comparison.

Roman cut her off. "The location is convenient. I don't want to spend an hour stuck in traffic every single morning."

"You don't even have to drive," Adelaide retorted with a pout.

Before Roman could retort, Margaret signaled the butler to serve the first course, skillfully changing the subject.

In reality, Roman’s talk of "convenience" was just an excuse he made on Violette’s behalf. She didn’t like having a chauffeur; she preferred driving herself. If they lived out at Blue Springs, the commute would have been a nightmare for her.

Usually, that would have been the end of it. But today, Emerson, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "The place you're living in now is indeed too cramped. The privacy is subpar, and the air quality in the city center is poor. You two are planning on having children soon, aren't you? Blue Springs has a much better environment for that."

The clinking of silverware stopped in unison. Violette looked up, catching Roman’s eye. He gave her a subtle, reassuring nod.

Margaret’s face lit up. "Really? You two are already planning to have a baby?"

"It’s perfectly normal for an older brother his age to start a family, Mom. Why do you look so shocked?" Adelaide chimed in.

"It’s not shock, dear! I’m thrilled!"

The mother and daughter began to chatter, but Margaret quickly turned back to Roman. "Have you two gone for a medical screening yet?"

"…No."

"Well, then. I’ll arrange it after the holidays. And listen, you must cut out the smoking and drinking. No more late nights at the office—you need to get home early and rest. Your internal clock is crucial for this. Otherwise—"

She didn't finish, and Roman certainly didn't want to hear the rest. It didn’t sound like anything he wanted to invite into his life.

"Exactly, brother. A man hitting his thirties—"

A sharp, warning cough from Emerson silenced Adelaide instantly. There was a high schooler at the table with eyes wide and ears pricked.

"What happens when you hit thirty?" Kaisen asked, oblivious. "Tell me, Sis!"

"When you hit thirty, you become weak because you've seen too much of the world, and you start crying alone at night," Adelaide rolled her eyes. "You’d better grow up to be a strong man, Kaisen!"

The tension regarding age dissipated, and the conversation turned to lighter topics. Under the cover of stepping away to wash his hands after the crab course, Violette sent Roman a quick text.

*Violette: Was Dad dragging you into the study earlier just to pressure us about a baby?*

At the table, Roman’s phone buzzed. He glanced at Violette’s empty chair, wiped his hands, and picked up the device.

*Roman: I was the one who told him that just to shut him up. He was getting on my nerves.*

*Violette: …*

*Roman: Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, I won’t let them put any real pressure on you.*

*Violette: So, are we still going for that physical after the holidays?*

*Roman: Just treat it like we're going through the motions.*

The Griffin household’s strict code of conduct dictated that work was to be left at the door during family meals; they were meant to focus entirely on strengthening family bonds. Roman’s continued focus on his phone was an eyesore to Emerson. He set his chopsticks down and stared coldly at his son.

On the other side of the table, Margaret was busy grill-polling Adelaide about her plans. Adelaide pouted. "I don’t want to have kids yet."

Her husband leaned in, joking, "Does that mean you don't love me enough to want our own?"

Roman’s fingers hovered over his screen for a long, silent moment.

"Are you so busy that you don't have time to eat?" Emerson’s voice was sharp with irritation.

Roman snapped back to reality, locking his phone and setting it aside. "Just an urgent matter at the office."

"Brother, I saw your conference today!" Kaisen interjected. "Why was Bradley hosting? You didn’t even show up for such a big event?"

"Mm," Roman leaned back in his chair. "I’m on vacation today."

"Are you serious? You? Taking a vacation?"

When Violette returned to the table, the conversation had shifted from vacations to a collective trip to Hawaii. She caught a glimpse of Emerson’s unusually stern expression and leaned toward Roman.

"Is your father alright?" she whispered.

"He's just doing his daily quota of nitpicking," Roman replied calmly.

*…And yet, all of you keep telling me he's easy to get along with,* she thought.

For the rest of the meal, Violette stayed cautious, terrified of giving anyone a reason to critique her. When the dessert menu arrived, she didn't even have the chance to read the gold-leafed text before Emerson spoke.

"You decide for Roman as well."

Caught off guard, Violette felt a jolt of anxiety. She didn't have time to wonder why Roman had been gone so long, so she pointed to the very first item on the menu to end her indecision.

"Very well, the durian pastry it is. And for you, Violette?"

"The same," she said quickly.

As the words left her mouth, she noticed Emerson and Margaret exchange a glance. She peered at them, but their expressions were neutral, as if she were simply overthinking it.

The two durian pastries arrived, golden and fragrant. Roman looked at the plate, clearly taken aback. He silently turned the porcelain dish around.

"Why aren't you eating?" Violette asked.

He draped an arm lazily over the back of her chair, his expression unreadable. "I don't want to be too full before the night is over."

Violette didn't have much of an appetite either, but she didn't want to seem wasteful while Emerson was watching. She nibbled away at the pastry in tiny, measured bites.

Roman reached over and pulled the spoon from her hand. "If you can't finish it, leave it."

Violette looked up at him, her eyes soft and vulnerable. *Will that look bad?*

Roman couldn't handle her gaze. He stood up, taking her hand. "Come on. I’ll take you for a walk."

They rarely walked together; their schedules were usually so packed that even a shared dinner was a rarity. As she felt the warmth of his palm, she felt a flush creeping up her neck. Especially with the rest of the Griffin family watching their joined hands.

Roman walked with long, steady strides, constantly adjusting his pace to accommodate her heels. Violette couldn't help but notice that Roman was, in every single detail, a man of impeccable manners. Even when the subject of having children came up, his first instinct had been to shield her from the pressure.

She had been genuinely rattled. They had been married for only a few months; she hadn't once considered the idea of a child. She was young, marriage-phobic, and her career was finally on an upward trajectory. This was hardly the right time. She had heard enough complaints from her colleagues at the station about how a baby could turn a household upside down for months.

Roman had never mentioned a love for children in private, either.

*He probably… isn't ready either, is he?*

Violette curled her fingers nervously, her skin brushing against his. She couldn't stop the thoughts from spiraling. Was he really not ready? Or was there something about their marriage that made it impossible?

The dynamic between them was subtle and complicated. Even with her limited experience, Violette knew a lasting marriage shouldn't feel like this. She didn't understand Roman; she couldn't see the future of their union, but she couldn't shake the feeling that as long as things continued like this, it wasn't a bad life.

There was no need to over-idealize it.

*Whatever.*

She couldn't even sort out her own life; thinking about children was far too early.