The tension in the room was palpable, a charged silence hanging between us. Robert’s bravado had crumbled into desperation, and his eyes pleaded for mercy he had never shown. The weight of his earlier words—his taunting, his triumph—now hung like an anchor around his neck.
The phone was still to my ear, a lifeline to a world where I was valued, where I was respected. “Yes, right now, Mr. Chairman,” I affirmed, my voice steady as a rock. The gravity of my request carried its own weight, and Robert could feel it pressing down on him.
“Anna, please,” he whispered brokenly, his earlier bravado shattered. “We can talk about this. We can work it out.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. This man who I had once loved, who had once been my partner, now stood before me, exposed in his frailty and desperation. It was almost pitiful. But pity was a luxury I could not afford, not when he had shown none for me.
Be First to Comment