Mason Graves
I checked my watch again, my eyes narrowing at the familiar ticking sound that seemed to grow louder the more I waited. The evening had settled over London like a thick, oppressive blanket, and the city lights below flickered faintly through the windows, a sharp contrast to the heaviness in my chest. It wasn’t the work I had to focus on, nor the business dealings—those could wait. It was her. Serena.
I had texted her, called her, and left multiple messages. Nothing. The silence between us had stretched longer than it should have, and it was beginning to grate on me. I hated the waiting. I hated the uncertainty of it. And I especially hated how quickly my patience was wearing thin.
The office was quiet, save for the hum of my phone charging beside me and the low murmur of my
