Peter felt the weight of his briefcase increase as guilt surged relentlessly through his thoughts, forcing him to confront an unbearable realization regarding the illusion he had mistaken for harmony. Every promotion, every financial milestone, every architectural triumph suddenly seemed hollow against the quiet humiliation endured by the woman who had shaped his entire existence.
“I keep my belongings neatly within my room,” Margot added cautiously, her voice fragile yet dignified. “I try very hard not to disturb your routines or preferences.”
“Your room exists within my household, not the other way around,” Audrey responded dismissively. “Peter built this environment for our lifestyle, not for sentimental nostalgia tied to outdated habits.”
Peter stepped forward before hesitation could restrain him, each deliberate movement echoing sharply across the marble floor, announcing his presence with undeniable finality. Audrey turned abruptly, surprise flashing across her carefully composed features before dissolving into an artificial smile rehearsed countless times within public settings.