There was a beat of silence before Olivia slowly reached up and touched her own face, as if trying to feel what expression she was wearing.
Her eyes then widened a little. And then...a wry, sheepish smile crept onto her lips.
"Ah." She murmured, nodding faintly. "I think I get it now. I understand what you’re talking about."
Kafka narrowed his eyes. "You do?"
She looked down at the nu, idly flipping the page as her smile deepened, not out of amusent, but sothing like realization.
"Abi told sothing similar quite often. Actually...so did my parents."
That got his attention. He leaned a little closer. "Go on."
She chuckled under her breath, soft and nostalgic.
"You see, when I’m with people I’m close to, I guess my expression is normal. Relaxed. I’m just.... But whenever I’m with strangers, people I don’t know, I get nervous. Really nervous."
Kafka tilted his head. "You don’t look nervous."
"That’s the thing." Olivia said, her smile turning a little rueful. "I am. But my nerves don’t co out in stamring or shaking. They...freeze. I freeze. I get stiff."
"My face tightens without realizing. I try to seem composed, but apparently it cos off as..." She waved a hand vaguely in the air, mimicking his earlier gesture. "...an ice queen who was looking down in the world itself or atleast that’s what Abi said."
Kafka laughed, surprised. "That’s one way to describe it."
Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "I used to think it was just being quiet. But over the years, my family started pointing it out. And eventually, Abi helped realize...it’s a defense chanism."
"I get so anxious about saying the wrong thing, or looking weird, or ssing up, that I sort of...shut down on the outside. My face puts up a wall."
She glanced down at her lap.
"Even now, under the table, I’ve been fiddling with my fingers this whole ti. I was nervous talking to that waitress. I didn’t know how to respond to her suggestions, and I was scared I might say sothing dumb..."
Kafka blinked. "Wait. So you were nervous?"
"Terrified." She admitted, and then let out a soft laugh. "But apparently, I wear my fear like armor."
Kafka looked at her for a long second. And then he smiled, warmly, genuinely, and almost admiringly.
"That’s...kind of incredible, actually."
She blinked in surprise. "Huh?"
He shrugged. "You get so scared, and instead of freaking out, you beco this composed, intimidating version of yourself. I an, you scared . And that waitress might be in therapy now. But...if I didn’t know you, I’d think that you and the waiter had a life-long feud going on."
Olivia flushed a little, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"You know what’s funny though?" She added, thoughtfully. "In business etings, it actually works in my favor. I’ve had clients tell they trust because I look so collected. Like soone who knows what she’s doing. All I’m really doing is surviving the anxiety, but...it seems to work."
Kafka laughed again, shaking his head. "That’s crazy to hear. You’re basically a scared little bunny wearing a dragon costu."
Olivia giggled, a soft, sparkling sound. "That’s one way to put it."
Olivia then fiddled nervously with her fingers, her gaze low as the sound of cutlery and distant conversation filled the air around them.
A little part of her wanted to vanish under the table, but another part, bolder, more desperate, wanted to know. Wanted to hear it from him. His thoughts. His voice.
So softly, almost like she was afraid the air itself would reject her words, she asked,
"Kafi...do you...do you think it’s weird? What just happened?" Her eyes shifted up to him, her expression small and uncertain. "Do you think I’m strange...for acting like that? I don’t even know why I did it, it just...happened. I’m sorry if it scared you..."
Kafka blinked, taken aback, not by the question itself, but by the fact that she was even asking it in that timid, almost apologetic tone.
He tilted his head a little, then let out a quiet chuckle as he leaned a bit closer, resting one arm on the back of her chair.
"No." He said plainly, sincerely. "Not at all."
Olivia blinked. "Not...at all?"
"Nope." Kafka said, lips curling into a grin. "In fact, it kinda excited ."
Her heart skipped hearing that sudden statent. She stared at him, unsure if she had heard right.
"E-Excited you...?" She whispered, her cheeks burning almost instantly.
Kafka nodded without missing a beat. "You should’ve seen your face." He said, his tone playful but genuine. "That expression? That gaze? Cold as hell. I an, it was intense. And yeah, maybe a bit terrifying, but to soone like ? .That was hot."
She opened her mouth slightly in shock, completely caught off guard by his honesty.
"H-How could sothing like that...be hot?" She asked, unable to comprehend.
"I an I...I usually just scare people off." Her cheeks turned pink. "That’s everyone keeps their conversations really short with . Which, honestly, is kind of helpful."
She let out a shy laugh, thinking of all those etings where she just sat quietly and everyone did everything for her, not wanting to piss her off since her employees always thought she was mad
"I don’t have to talk to them for too long. Most of them seem scared anyway. So they don’t bother too much." She looked away again. "But you’re saying it excited you...? How does that even make sense?"
Kafka didn’t answer with words right away. Instead, he leaned in slightly, slipping his arm further around her shoulder as he gently pulled her closer to him. He then looked at her with a teasing smile.
"You really are innocent, Mom. You have no idea what kind of man I am, do you?" He moved in a little closer, almost whispering now. "That look on your face? The cold, detached queen-like aura? It made want to be stepped on."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "W-What...?"
"Yeah." He said with a low chuckle, eyes glinting with mischief. "I an it. You standing there, all scary and aloof...I kinda wanted you to look down at with that exact sa gaze, press your foot against my face, and say sothing like, ’What a bad boy you’ve been."
Olivia’s ears turned pink at the absurd things her son was saying. "K-Kafi!!"
"What?" He shrugged innocently, grin not faltering. "You asked."
"I...How could you even think of sothing like that?" She stamred, covering half her face with her hands. "I’d never...I’d never treat my precious son like that..."
"Oh, I know." He said casually. "I know you wouldn’t. But it’s not about what you’d actually do, Mom. It’s about how you look. It’s those eyes of yours. That cold stare...it just flips a switch in . Makes want things I didn’t even know I wanted."
She let out a soft gasp, looking at him like he was a walking contradiction. "Kafi, you’re being ridiculous..."
"Maybe..." He shrugged. "But it’s true. That gaze of yours? It brought out a whole different side of . Like, part of just wants to get bossed around by you. Stepped on. Treated like crap."
Her mouth fell open again, no words coming out this ti.
"And..." He added, his grin changing, less playful now, more intense. "At the sa ti, another part of wants to pin you down. Take that scary expression of yours and turn it upside down. Ravage you until you can’t wear that cold mask anymore."
"...Until all that’s left is you, red-faced, flushed, panting, moaning."
She froze, utterly speechless, her entire body heating up at his words, while Kafka leaned in again, lowering his voice to a whisper right near her ear.
"I want to see you fall apart, Mom. Because right now...that blush on your face?" He smiled. "That’s exactly the one I want to make you show again, but when you’re right underneath ."
Olivia stared ahead, her heart thudding in her chest, face burning so hot it could’ve boiled the water in her glass.
But beneath that embarrassnt...was a strange, deep sense of warmth. Of happiness. Of comfort. Because here was soone who didn’t run away. Who didn’t flinch.
Who didn’t hide from her strange, cold, distant side.
Soone who wanted to stay.
Soone who even liked that side of her.
Even Abigaille hadn’t accepted that part of her.
But her son did.
And that, more than anything else, made her chest ache with a quiet, overwhelming joy...
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