Alan
The office felt different the next morning. Somehow quieter, almost sacred, as if it understood that something had shifted between Cyril and me. I had spent years treating this place like a sanctuary, a domain where emotions were liabilities and control was everything. But now, with her presence here—not as a visitor, not as a daughter at arm’s length, but as a woman I cared for deeply—it was a battlefield I had to navigate carefully.
I arrived early, as usual, the first few rays of sunlight cutting across the marble floors, reflecting off the polished oak desks. My office door was closed, the blinds drawn just enough to create a shield from the outside world. I knew she would arrive soon. She always did. I could feel it before I even saw her, a presence that filled the hallways be
