“I know Mr. Hughes. It would be discourteous to leave without a proper farewell.”

With that, he gently patted her hand, swung the door open, and stepped out.

Rosalynn, in haste, pushed her own door open and followed suit.

Brian wore a white shirt paired with black trousers, his stature tall and lean, exuding an aura of cool detachment.

His gaze fell upon a robust figure alighting from the vehicle, eyes dark and fathomless.

There he was!

Lyndon Fernandez!

What were the odds?

pleasure

positioned himself before

sharp black ensemble, his presence was as

handshake with

It’s been a

road bore no other soul. Together, the two men, mirror images in height and build, composed a

underneath this tranquil facade,

seemingly composed, belied the strain in their arms,

locked, charged with an

brows creased at the sight of their

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