Third Person POV
Today, Kerill had a meeting with the company's new investors. It was one of the most important presentations of the year, with the expansion of their new product line riding on it. They were discussing projected sales, target consumers, and the estimated profits for the year.
He sat at the far end of the long conference table, back straight, face serious, as Hart went through the proposed adjustments to the product designs, particularly the children's wear line.
To everyone else, he appeared calm and in control.
But in truth, his mind wasn't there at all.
From time to time, he glanced at his wristwatch. For some reason, the minutes felt slower than usual. Each tick seemed to stretch.
His thoughts wandered to Charlene. Had Black picked her up again? Were they together right now? Where had they gone?
He shouldn't be thinking about it.
He had no right to.
And yet, every time the image of her with another man entered his mind, a strange tension gripped his chest. It wasn't anger, nor exactly jealousy. It was something else entirely, something he hated feeling.
"Sir?"
He blinked, coming back to the present.
"Sir?" Hart asked again, quieter this time.
He adjusted his posture and answered, "Yes?"
"Are you okay, sir?" Hart asked carefully.
"Of course," he replied shortly. "Continue."
Hart went on, talking about changes to packaging and visual branding, but one of the investors noticed his apparent lack of focus.
"This project is critical for both companies, Mr. Devios," the investor reminded him.
"I'm aware," he replied, colder than usual.
A few seconds of silence passed before the presentation continued. The meeting concluded successfully, the deal sealed, but the weight in Kerill's mind didn't lift.
Hart noticed how unusually quiet his boss was as they escorted the investors to the lobby.
Once inside the elevator, Hart could no longer hold back.
"Is something wrong between you and Ma'am Charlene, sir?"
Kerill's jaw tightened.
"No," he said, flatly.
One word. Not enough to convince Hart.
"Sometimes, sir, all it takes is a simple gesture," Hart continued. "Flowers, chocolates… something like that."
Kerill didn't answer. He stared at the digital numbers of the elevator, descending floor by floor. Somehow, that suggestion felt heavier than he expected.
---
By the time he reached the parking area, it was already evening. Opening his car door, he furrowed his brow at the sight of a bouquet of red roses on the passenger seat.
"What's this?" he asked.
"Flowers, sir," Hart replied with a smile. "For Ma'am."
"I didn't order you to buy this."
"You didn't ask me to," Hart said with a teasing lilt, "but I thought you'd want them anyway."
Kerill paused. He knew he should refuse. It would be easier to just leave them behind.
Yet, instead of saying no, he took the bouquet.
"I'll take them," he finally said, keeping his expression neutral. "Can't waste them."
Hart didn't say another word, but the faint smile on his face was enough before he excused himself.
It was exactly nine o'clock when Kerill arrived at the mansion. The house was quiet, and the silence felt heavier in the solitude of the empty halls.
As he walked toward his room, he noticed light still glowing from the children's playroom. He paused and peered inside.
There was Charlene, sitting in the middle of the room with a large storybook in her hands, reading softly to Lily and the twins. Lily leaned against her shoulder while the twins were nearly asleep.
The scene was simple, quiet, but it tugged at something inside him.
He didn't realize he had been standing there for several minutes.
By the time the twins had fully fallen asleep, Charlene gently closed the book and lifted Lily. That was when he finally stepped into the room.
Their eyes met.
No words were spoken, yet an unspoken tension lingered in the space between them.
Kerill glanced at the twins, lifting Wyl carefully before returning for Wency, who was already sound asleep. Together, they carried the children out of the room, and for a brief, fleeting moment, if anyone had been watching, it could have been mistaken for a normal family.
After putting the children to bed, they walked side by side down the silent hallway. Neither spoke, yet Kerill noticed every small movement: the way Charlene's footsteps barely made a sound, how she tucked her hair behind her ear. Every gesture seemed magnified in his awareness.
He couldn't explain why he didn't turn toward his own room immediately.
Charlene stopped in front of his door and faced him gently.
"Here's fine," she said, looking away.
He stared at her for a long moment. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
"Yeah… okay," he finally murmured.
He turned and walked away, but as the soft click of the door echoed behind him, something lingered in his chest.
He remembered the bouquet.
Back at the car, he looked at the red roses again. A simple thing, yet impossibly heavy in his hands. He didn't know what frightened him more — the thought of her rejecting them or accepting them.
He took a deep breath before heading back inside the mansion.
At Charlene's door, he paused, his heart beating louder than the silence around him.
He placed the bouquet gently in front of her door and knocked twice before immediately stepping away. He didn't wait.
When Charlene opened the door, the red roses were there on the floor. She picked them up slowly, glancing down the empty hallway, as if hoping someone might be there.
No one was.
Yet in the emptiness, she somehow knew exactly who had left them.
And Kerill, watching from a distance, felt his heart quicken at the realization.