Daphne’s POV
My hands tremble under the table as I tap my foot restlessly against the marble floor. My fingers clutch at the fabric of my dress, damp with sweat. My stomach twists with unease, a cold weight settling deep in my chest. I have to do this. I have to face Reynold. But the fear of what comes next gnaws at me.
I glance at the door, my pulse quickening when it finally swings open. Reynold steps inside, his eyes searching the room before they land on me. His face lights up with a smile—genuine, warm, and completely unaware of what I’m about to do.
“Daphne,” he calls, his voice smooth and familiar, yet it makes my heart skip for all the wrong reasons. He strides toward me, confidence in every step. “I guess you couldn’t stay away from me even for a second,” he teases, laughter da
