A Calculated Departure

Eleanor Thorne's sharp eyes didn't miss the shift in dynamics at her dinner table. The space between Elara and Damien seemed wider than the physical distance separating them. She dabbed her lips with a napkin and broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Elara, dear, would you pass the salt?" Eleanor asked, her tone deliberately light.

Elara reached for the crystal salt shaker, her movements graceful but mechanical. "Here you are, Eleanor."

"Thank you." Eleanor sprinkled salt on her food, then glanced between her grandson and his wife. "I've noticed you've been quite busy lately, Elara. Rarely at home."

Elara took a small sip of water. "YodaVision requires my attention. The AI market waits for no one."

"Hmm." Eleanor turned to Damien. "Perhaps you could visit her at work sometime. See what she's been up to."

Damien's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I'm sure Elara prefers to keep her professional life separate."