No more questions

“Right, may I?” She points to the bottle on the table.

Not feeling quite up to denying a woman twice his age much of anything, Ethan hands her the whisky.

Layla takes a swig, then exhales sharply before replacing the cap. “That was… Well, it went better than I’d thought.”

Watching her, Ethan can tell she’s still troubled by something, the topic not totally done for her. That last swig of liquid courage might have been intended to coax it out, but her silence is deafening.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asks, trying to be tactful.

“Oh, yes, dear.” She nods her head. “But I should be asking you that. I can only imagine what you must be going through…”

“It’s…” Ethan takes a moment. It’s a lot to think about. He honestly doesn't know how to feel. The situation is just so insane. “I’m still kinda working it out.”

“That’s understandable…” Layla starts to stand, brushing her dress down flat. “I’ll leave you to it. If you have any other questions my door is always open.”

Despite his brain being powerbombed through a hard truth, Ethan can tell Layla still has something on her mind. She’s holding something back, and it’s gnawing at her.