Cyril
I could feel the weight of Alan's presence lingering in the air as I walked out of the office.
The hallway seemed too long, too cold, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that every step I took was heavier than the last.
The tension from the meeting, from sitting so close to him and pretending that I didn’t feel his eyes burning into me, had left me drained.
The effort to keep myself composed, to keep him out of my thoughts, was exhausting.
Even when I had moved out of the house, when I had tried to create some distance, the ache of missing him had never gone away.
When I left after that incident, I thought I was doing the right thing.
I thought that if I couldn’t face him, if I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him the way I used to, maybe it would be easier to live apart.
