"Soren, look how beautiful the orchids are this year. They smell so lovely," the dream-Evangeline said. "I'll have Gregory move the one that's blooming most vibrantly to your office tomorrow. You work so hard all day; having some flowers around might brighten your mood."
…
Soren opened his eyes and found himself standing at the entrance of the villa he had shared with Evangeline for five years. From inside, he could hear her familiar, cheerful voice. The door was slightly ajar, a brilliant white light spilling from within. He pushed it open and saw her admiring the orchids in the living room, chattering happily to herself. The dream-version of him, his back to her, barely turned his head at the sound of her voice.
"Mm," the dream-Soren grunted, a single, cold syllable. He didn't break his stride, continuing up the stairs toward the bedroom. He was still in his work suit, having just gotten home.
This was their ritual, the brief, chilly interaction they had every time he returned from the office. Soren remembered how he had resented her back then for what she'd done to Poppy, how he had actively avoided her. He'd always known he was cold, but seeing it play out now, watching himself treat her with such indifference, left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He looked at the dream-Evangeline. She must have sensed his coldness, but she was probably used to it. She just squeezed her hands together for a moment before her smile returned. "I heard things were hectic at work today, that you didn't even have time for dinner," she called up the stairs. "I made something for you just before you got home. You should eat."
"No."
His response was as frigid as ever.
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