The tension in the room wasn't a metaphor anymore. It was a solid that pressed against my ribs and made breathing feel difficult.
The loud celebration had been snuffed out like a candle in a gale. Now, it was the same as those suffocating meetings I had spent months in.
Alina, who didn't even wait for the answer, had moved to the head of the table and sat as if the seat had always belonged to her.
She hadn't said a word yet, but her eyes were already speaking. They lingered on my shoulder.
On the head resting against it.
The glasses stopped clinking. The bottles remained untouched. No one reached for their glass.
Shaun, ever the one to misread the room when he was three drinks past common sense, decided to break the silence. He leaned forward, a sloppy grin on his face.
"Director, you look... really good with Cammy. Like, a perfect match." He slurred, gesturing between me and the girl leaning heavily against my shoulder.
