Jack sat in a booth in a lounge, it was dimly lit. He was gazing at his glass of wine, his jaw clenched tightly in front of him, Beatrice was seated across him with her designer bag, her sharp eyes on him.
“You look like a man who just saw a ghost,” Beatrice said, breathing silently. Her voice was filled with irritation. “Care to tell me why you dragged me out here?”
Jack gave a sharp glare before taking his drink. “She’s back”.
“Who’s back,” Beatrice asked sharply.
“Stella, of course,” Jack replied to her, his voice breaking.
“I see you two have met,” she said.
“What! Beatrice, you already know? And you didn’t deem it fit to tell me.” Jack said, raising his voice like someone about to lose his mind.
“She looks different– more beautiful, confident and successful.”
“Well, you don’t
