Cyril
The office was quiet that morning, the hum of computers and the occasional shuffle of papers filling the gaps between thoughts. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the polished surfaces and casting long shadows across the floor. It should have been ordinary—business as usual—but for Alan and me, nothing in the office ever felt ordinary.
I sat at my desk, meticulously reviewing reports, but my attention kept wandering. My gaze drifted toward Alan’s office, watching the way he leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the mahogany desk. He looked every bit the authoritative figure I had always known—the man who commanded attention with a single glance—but today, the sharpness in his eyes was softened, unreadable. Something simmered beneath the s
