The morning air felt thick, almost as if it was holding its breath.
I watched him, waiting for a reaction, any sign of what might come next.
But he stood there, rooted to the spot, his eyes flickering between me and the woman.
Her presence was a silent accusation, a reminder of things left unresolved.
Her gaze was steady, unflinching, as if daring him to speak, to acknowledge the past.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out, only a hollow silence that echoed in the room.
The tension was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around us, squeezing tighter with each second.
I held my breath, my heart pounding, wondering if this was the moment everything would unravel.
He finally spoke, his voice low and strained.
“What are you doing here?”
