As Claire stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and dread, Daniel remained seated, exuding an unsettling calm. The room felt like a pressure chamber, the kind where silence carried more weight than a thousand screams. Claire, still clutching her phone, was pale, as if drained of all warmth and color by the cold truth of her actions and their repercussions.
“Daniel, I—” she began, her voice trembling, but Daniel held up a hand, silencing her not with force, but with finality.
“Save it, Claire,” he said, placing his coffee cup down with a measured precision. “I think we both know there’s nothing left to say.”
