Ella’s POV:
My mom smiled faintly, and I could see that she was still trying to wrap her head around the sheer size of the place. "I suppose I understand. But it just seems... quiet." She glanced at , pulling out of my thoughts. "I can’t imagine living here all alone."
I shook my head, taking a deep breath. "I’m sure it’s not as lonely as it looks."
A maid greeted us at the door, her deanor polite and professional as she led us through the grand hallways. She was tall, with a polite smile on her face, and she led us down a long, plush hallway toward the sitting room.
My heart raced in my chest as I followed, my thoughts spinning once again. What if his grandmother didn’t like my mom? What if my mom said sothing that would make things worse?
Ella, stop worrying, I told myself. Just... breathe.
I trailed slightly behind Arec, my mom walking beside , her eyes taking in every detail of the house with quiet curiosity.
When we reached the sitting room, I braced myself for so cold reception, but what happened next left speechless.
Arec’s grandmother rose from her chair with surprising grace, her elegant gray dress flowing as she crossed the room. Before I could say anything, she opened her arms and pulled my mother into a warm hug.
"Mrs. Davis," she said, her tone far warr than I’d ever heard it, "it’s such a pleasure to finally et you."
My mom looked as stunned as I felt, but she recovered quickly, returning the embrace with a polite smile. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Weston," she replied, her voice smooth.
Then, to my further shock, Arec’s grandmother turned to and pulled into a hug as well. "Ella," she said softly, "you look radiant as always."
I blinked, stepping back to look at her with wide eyes. What was happening? This wasn’t what I was hoping for.
I glanced at Arec, raising an eyebrow in question. He simply smiled at , his expression unreadable.
---
Dinner was set in a private dining room that looked as if it belonged in a magazine spread. A long, rectangular table made of dark polished wood stretched across the space, surrounded by high-backed velvet chairs.
A modern chandelier hung above, its warm light reflecting off the crystal glasses and gleaming silverware. The table was set with precision, white porcelain plates bordered with gold trim, linen napkins folded elegantly at each setting, and a centerpiece of fresh white roses in a sleek vase.
As we took our seats, I couldn’t help but admire the view.
The floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the room showcased the sprawling gardens outside, illuminated by soft lights hidden among the hedges. It was serene and breathtaking, a stark contrast to the nerves I was feeling.
Two uniford servants entered silently, placing bowls of creamy pumpkin soup in front of us before disappearing just as quickly. I glanced at Arec, who sat beside , and then at my mother, who was seated directly across from Mrs. Weston. My mother seed relaxed, but I couldn’t quite tell how Mrs. Weston felt.
The first few minutes passed with polite small talk. My mother complinted the decor, and Mrs. Weston graciously thanked her. I kept waiting for a subtle jab or a dismissive comnt, but none ca.
As the main course, seared salmon with asparagus and a delicate lemon sauce, was served, the atmosphere began to shift.
"So, Mrs. Davis," Mrs. Weston said, setting down her fork. "Tell , how do you feel about the upcoming wedding?"
My mother smiled, her eyes lighting up. "I couldn’t be happier. Ella’s happiness is all that matters to , and it’s clear that Arec makes her very happy."
"He certainly does," Mrs. Weston agreed, glancing at with a small smile. "She glows when she’s with him. It’s a rare thing, seeing a love that genuine."
I blinked, montarily stunned. Was this really Mrs. Weston, the sa woman who once looked at like I was an interloper?
"That’s kind of you to say," my mother replied. "Though I have to admit, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about her marrying into such a high-profile family. But seeing how they care for each other has put my worries to rest."
Mrs. Weston nodded thoughtfully. "It can be overwhelming, certainly. But I believe Ella is stronger than she gives herself credit for. She’s handled herself with grace."
I felt my cheeks heat under the praise and looked down at my plate. Arec reached over, brushing his fingers against mine under the table, a silent reminder that he was there with .
The conversation flowed easily after that. They talked about the wedding, sharing excitent over the arrangents and joking about how my mother had threatened to bring her old photo albums to embarrass .
"I still might!" my mother teased, looking at with a playful glint in her eye.
"Please don’t," I groaned, though I couldn’t help but laugh.
"Oh, you must," Mrs. Weston said, surprising once again. "I’d love to see Ella’s childhood photos."
"You’re not helping!" I said, throwing Arec a look, but he just chuckled, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
---
The desserts arrived, a decadent chocolate mousse served in crystal glasses, and by then, I had fully relaxed. It was strange but wonderful to see my mother and Mrs. Weston getting along so well.
They talked like old friends, sharing stories about their child and grand child, laughing over our quirks, and even teasing us.
"Ella was such a bossy child," my mother said with a grin. "Always telling her friends what to do."
"She still is," Arec chid in, earning a playful glare from .
"And Arec," Mrs. Weston said, turning the tables, "was the most stubborn boy I’ve ever t. Once, when he was six, he refused to co inside because he wanted to build a fort. Ended up catching a cold."
"Sounds about right," I said, smirking at him.
He shrugged, unbothered. "It was a great fort."
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