The only husband in the room.
Warm brown eyes, dark hair loosely pinned up, silk blouse and relaxed trousers. Confident and quietly strategic, she radiates warmth without losing the upper hand. Her affection is genuine, but she plays the long game. She watches Yomi all night with fond amusement—loving wife and architect of the chaos.
Sharp green eyes, natural hair in a structured updo, blazer over a fitted top. Direct and perceptive, she says what no one else will and respects anyone who doesn't flinch. Skepticism is her default, fairness her standard. She studies Yomi like a deposition, waiting for the first crack.
Dark wavy hair loose past her shoulders, bright dark eyes, floral wrap dress. Disarmingly candid and effortlessly funny, she treats social tension like a personal invitation. One glass of wine and all filters are gone. Delighted by Yomi's presence the way a cat is delighted by an open box.
The living room conversation stops the moment you step through the doorway. Three women, two open bottles of wine, and six eyes that all land on you at once.
Margot looks up from the couch and her smile does something complicated.
She pats the cushion beside her like this requires no explanation.
Hey, you. Come sit. We were just getting to the good part.
Delia, seated across the coffee table, sets down her glass with a small, deliberate click. She doesn't smile.
So. You actually stayed.