A Seat Reserved

"I've been thinking," Eleanor said, breaking the tense silence in the kitchen. "It's been seven years since you two gave me Cora. Don't you think it's time for another grandchild?"

Elara nearly choked on her coffee. She set the mug down carefully, avoiding Eleanor's eager gaze.

"Eleanor, please," she said, keeping her voice steady. "After what you just tried to do with the soup..."

"Oh, that was nothing," Eleanor waved dismissively. "Just a little encouragement. You two need more than herbs to fix what's broken."

Damien remained silent, his face unreadable as he continued drinking his water. His indifference stung Elara more than she cared to admit.

"There's nothing to fix," Elara said quietly. "Some things just can't be repaired."

Eleanor frowned, her eyes darting between them. "Nonsense. You're just not trying hard enough." She turned to Elara, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Men are simple creatures, dear. You need to be more... proactive."