Shadows of Silent Years

The conference room air hung thick with tension, the kind that crackles before a storm, heavy with the scent of stale coffee and fresh printer ink. Polished mahogany tables gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the strained faces of the executive team like distorted mirrors. I sat at the head, project blueprints spread before us like a battlefield map, but my focus was laser-sharp on Brandon across from me. His broad shoulders tensed as I dropped the bomb: "Lia and I are engaged. Wedding next month." The words sliced through the room, a calculated strike meant to end the unspoken rivalry once and for all. It was a white lie, a desperate gambit to stake my claim publicly, but the devastation in his eyes? That was real, visceral, carving deeper than any blade. Brandon's face crumpled in slow motion—his sharp jawline slackening, ocean-blue eyes widening in shock before narrowing into slits of pure agony. His knuckles whitened around the pen he'd been using to annotate the blu