A few days had passed since the confrontations with Beatrice. The atmosphere remained loaded with tension, yet somehow, we succeeded in progressing, albeit just by a fragile thread. Jack and I had not communicated much since that time, our lives seeming like two parallel lines—near yet never truly touching. I sensed the burden of his thoughts weighing on him, even as he attempted to set them aside. Something was forming under the surface, something I wasn’t certain I could assist with. Yet he hadn't lost hope in us, and that was sufficient for me to keep moving forward.
But Jack’s attention was elsewhere.
One evening, I sat in my office reviewing some contracts and ways to expand my business, and I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door. I looked up, surprised to see Jack, st
