Cyril
The morning air was crisp, and the manor’s drive shimmered faintly under the rising sun as Alan and I made our way to the car.
I kept my hand lightly brushing against his as we walked, careful not to linger too long but unwilling to let go entirely.
The brief touch was a reminder of last night’s unspoken promises, and I felt a thrill that was both comforting and unnerving.
“Are you ready?” Alan asked, his voice calm, professional, though the warmth behind it was something I had learned to recognize over the weeks.
I nodded, adjusting my bag over my shoulder. “Yes. Let’s go.”
The drive was quiet, our usual routine, but the silence was not the same as the comfortable peace we shared in the manor.
Here, there was an undercurrent, a restrained awareness that the office would dem
