“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 to see

before Brian,

his presence was as commanding as

his handshake with a

Mr. Fernandez. It’s

two men, mirror images in

tranquil facade, tension

strain in their arms,

charged with an intangible

creased at the sight of their prolonged

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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