He cursed himself for bringing it up.

He fumbled for a distraction. "Grapes? Fresh ones. Want some?"

Camila grabbed a corner of his clothes. "So, if you ever tie the knot again, that'd be number two, wouldn't it?"

Forrest froze.

“Mila," he began, a touch of reproach in his voice, “you used to hold me in such high esteem. Now you sound.well, just like Isaac."

“Would you suffocate yourself to death if you don't speak?" Isaac muttered.

Forrest fell silent.

He wouldn't suffocate, but he certainly felt the sting of boredom.

“But wouldn't the silence be contagious?" he countered, a hint of pleading in his voice. “Such a beautiful day, such a gorgeous view - a shame to waste it on muteness. Look, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little."

“What burdens you, then, Forrest?" Isaac inquired, his earlier annoyance fading. “You have a daughter, haven't you? What more could aman ask for?"

Forrest sighed, a weary sound. "She doesn't have a mother."

Regret gnawed at him, a constant ache for the complete family he couldn't provide.

Camila, struck by a sudden realization, saw the truth behind Forrest's facade of amusement.

His daughter brought him joy, yet the absence of a mother was a gaping wound.

His smile, she realized, lacked genuine warmth.

A pang of guilt washed over her.

As a friend, had she been neglectful?

Taking charge, she said, “Didn't you mention wanting a barbecue? Let's get someone to bring the supplies."

“And some cold beers, wouldn't hurt," Forrest chimed in, a hint of a playful glint returning to his eyes.

Camila rolled her eyes playfully.