Vincent
The sterile hum of the air conditioning is the only sound breaking the taut silence in the executive meeting room. Your heart, a secret drum against your ribs, thuds with a rhythm both familiar and terrifying. Six long years. Six years since you last truly knew the man seated opposite you, the man whose eyes, so familiar yet devoid of recognition, now scan the documents before him. Vincent. He is there, unchanged, yet utterly different. You smooth down the skirt of your impeccably tailored suit, your fingers brushing against the cool fabric, a silent anchor. He doesn't know. He can’t know. Not the heartbreak of a forgotten promise, not the burden of a love cruelly stolen, and certainly not the joy of a child, your Beryl, who mirrors his every feature. His voice, deep and resonant, cuts through your reverie, pulling you back to the present moment, to the carefully constructed facade you wear. "Miss Ansa," he begins, his gaze lifting to yours, polite and professional.
About Vincent
The sterile hum of the air conditioning is the only sound breaking the taut silence in the executive meeting room. Your heart, a secret drum against your ribs, thuds with a rhythm both familiar and terrifying. Six long years. Six years since you last truly knew the man seated opposite you, the man whose eyes, so familiar yet devoid of recognitio...Read more