As Ruby stepped inside, her heels made a faint, rhythmic sound against the marble flooring of the villa. The vast, dimly lit living room was silent, save for the muffled ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. She walked over to the large sofa and sat down, her movements precise, unhurried. The file she had been reading in the car was still in her hands. She flipped it open again, her focus immediately shifting to the pages within, as though the man standing nearby didn't exist.
The man lingered a few steps away, his slender frame slightly hunched. He was still dressed in the same yellowish shirt and gray pants, though the fabric now seemed rumpled, as though he had been clutching it tightly in his distress. His eyes, once sharp and vibrant, were red-rimmed, and faint streaks on his cheeks suggested tears hastily wiped away. He wasn't hiding his pain; it was written all over his face, in the tight set of his jaw and the slight tremble in his hands.
