Ross, of course, did as he promised. A week later, he arranged the meeting between the estranged couple—Ashley and Cyril.
It was quiet when they arrived, a subdued tension hanging in the air like a storm that had already passed but left everything broken in its wake.
Cyril looked good at first glance.
He was still dressed in designer clothes, his shoes polished, his watch expensive, and his hair carefully styled.
From afar, he might've looked like the same man who used to walk into boardrooms with confidence and command respect without speaking a word.
But up close, it was clear that something was missing. The light in his eyes had dulled. His once-proud shoulders slumped slightly.
There was stubble on his face, several days old, and it didn't suit him—he had always been meticulous, clean-cut.
Now, he looked like a man weighed down by the weight of choices he couldn't take back.
