Harold and Serena left the meeting room and drove home.
When they got home, the tension between them was palpable, and the silence that filled the house wasn’t comforting. It was sharp, cold, and expectant, like the air before a heavy storm.
Harold slumped into the living room and sank onto the couch. With his phone in hand, he began scrolling without interest. His face was a perfect blend of exhaustion and detachment.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, and his eyes were distant. He barely noticed Serena approaching. She didn’t speak at first, she just stood across the room, with her fists being clenched, there was a fire burning in her eyes.
Then, without warning, she marched across the room and snatched Harold's phone from his hand.
"Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?" She barked,
