THE restaurant was softly lit, the golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished wooden tables. It was one of those places Amelia and Charles had grown used to, a place quiet enough for intimate conversations and classy enough to feel like an escape from routine. Their usual weekend spot.
They sat opposite each other in a secluded corner booth. Amelia looked relaxed, elegant in a fitted wine-colored dress, her hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders. Charles, in a neatly pressed navy shirt, leaned back comfortably in his seat, his eyes fixed on her with that familiar fondness.
“I still don’t understand how you manage to look this composed after the week you had,” Charles said, shaking his head lightly.
Amelia chuckled.
“Composed? You should have seen me on Wednesday. I
