A wedding anniversary in tears
The penthouse was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that pressed against the ears until every small sound felt magnified. The steady ticking of the minimalist clock on the wall marked time with merciless precision, each second landing heavier than the last. Somewhere far below, the city breathed—distant traffic, muted horns, the low hum of life continuing without regard for what this night meant. There was no music drifting through hidden speakers, no laughter echoing off polished marble, no crystal glasses clinking in celebration. The space felt paused, suspended in a moment that refused to pass.
A single candle flickered at the center of the long dining table, its flame unsteady, casting soft, wavering shadows against the glass walls. Two chairs sat o
