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AUTHOR’S POV
Vincein sat at his desk, his fingers interlocked as he leaned forward, staring blankly at the papers spread before him.
The room was silent except for the occasional sound of a clock ticking on the wall. His normally sharp eyes were clouded with tension, his jaw tight, and his shoulders stiff.
The soft glow of the lamp barely illuminated the dark circles under his eyes, proof of nights spent without rest.
Michele had been watching him for a while, noticing the way he barely touched his coffee, how his fingers tapped restlessly against the wood of his desk, and how his gaze often drifted toward the window as if looking for answers in the darkness outside.
With a quiet sigh, Michele set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.
“Alright, Vincein,” he said, br
