THE restaurant was softly lit, the golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the polished wooden tables. It was one of those places Amelia and Charles had grown used to, a place quiet enough for intimate conversations and classy enough to feel like an escape from routine. Their usual weekend spot.

They sat opposite each other in a secluded corner booth. Amelia looked relaxed, elegant in a fitted wine-colored dress, her hair falling effortlessly over her shoulders. Charles, in a neatly pressed navy shirt, leaned back comfortably in his seat, his eyes fixed on her with that familiar fondness.

“I still don’t understand how you manage to look this composed...