It was a chilly evening when I decided to make the call. The familiar ring echoed in my ear, each tone a reminder of the stakes. “Hello?” His voice was calm, almost too calm. “We need to talk,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
There was a pause, a moment where everything seemed to hang in the balance. “About what?” he asked, though I sensed he already knew.
“You know,” I replied. The silence that followed was deafening, a void filled with the weight of unspoken history.
“Alright,” he said finally, “let’s meet. Tomorrow. Noon.”
The next day, I found myself at a small café, the kind of place where the scent of coffee mingles with whispered conversations. I arrived early, my mind rehearsing a thousand different scenarios.
When he walked in, his expression was unreadable. We exchanged greetings, sitting across from each other like two strangers forced to share a table.
“I got the results,” I said, sliding the document across the table. His eyes flickered, a hint of something—recognition, perhaps—before he picked it up.
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