Damien's phone buzzed on the breakfast table. Elara's eyes flickered to the screen, catching the caller ID: "Babe." A familiar pang shot through her chest, but she kept her expression blank.
"Hi there." Damien's voice was soft, gentle—a tone Elara barely recognized.
He stood, moving away from the table. Cora looked up from her cereal, her small face brightening with interest.
"Is that Vivi?" she asked loudly.
Damien nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. "You have a fever? Since when?"
Elara busied herself with her coffee, focusing on the bitter taste rather than the sharp twist in her gut. Seven years of marriage and he'd never once used that voice with her.
"I'll be there soon," Damien said, ending the call. He turned to Cora. "Vivienne isn't feeling well. I need to check on her."
"Is she okay?" Cora's voice was thick with worry.
"Just a fever," Damien replied, already grabbing his jacket. "She'll be fine."