ulled her focus from the work in front of her, as they so often did in the last few days. She glanced at the time. It was nearly noon, and once again, Doubra had failed to show

he images she had conjured in her head, images of Doubra with someone else, someone who had stolen his attention away. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she knew that the truth was finally within her reach. Victor was punctual. He always was. The soft knock on the door broke her from her thoughts, and she turned in her chair to face him. He stepped into the room, his face unreadable as usual. "I have what you asked for," he said, his voice steady and calm, betraying no hint of his thoughts. Lovey nodded, her heart beating a little faster. She knew this moment would come, but the anticipation still made her tense. Victor placed a small folder on her desk, opening it slowly, as if presenting something delicate. He slid the first picture in front of her, a snapshot of Doubra, standing outside a café, his face partially obscured by the brim of his cap. He was talking to someone, but the person's face was not clear. It was an ordinary picture, the kind that could have been taken on any random afternoon. Lovey's fingers hovered over the next picture, her curiosity growing. Victor, as always, had done his job well, capturing clear, decisive moments. The next picture made her pause. There was no mistaking who this was. Doubra, now unmistakably standing side by side with someone. And that someone was Darego. Lovey's breath caught in her throat. The image was telling. The two were standing close, closer than most acquaintances would, just a sliver of space between them. Darego's gaze was slightly averted, but there was an unmistakable warmth in the way they stood together, in the way their bodies angled towards each other as if drawn by an invisible force. Their proximity, the ease between them, it was the kind of moment that screamed connection, the kind of connection Lovey hadn't seen in Doubra for a long time. The way Darego was looking at him, the soft smile tugging at her lips, it was as if they shared a private joke, an unspoken understanding. And Doubra? He had a look on his face Lovey knew too well, one of familiarity, of comfort, of someone who had found a safe space in another person. There it was. The proof she had been dreading. Lovey stared at the photo, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as a chill ran through her. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Everything she had feared was becoming real before her eyes. Doubra had found someone, someone who had captured his attention, someone who seemed to be filling the gap she hadn't even known existed. Victor, ever the professional, didn't say anything, knowing full well the gravity of the situation. He merely slid the next few photos forward. There were more images of Doubra and Darego, casual moments, like laughing together on a bench, standing in line at a café, exchanging words with ease. No photos were overtly intimate, but the comfort and ease they shared were unmistakable. Lovey's mind raced as she took in each image. It was all too clear now. Darego wasn't just a passing acquaintance. The bond between them was deepening, and with each photo, Lovey felt something in her chest tighten. She could no longer ignore it. She had known, deep down, that something was off, that Doubra had been distracted. But seeing it now, seeing the connection between them so clearly laid out before her, it hit her in a way nothing else had. This wasn't just a passing fling. Doubra had opened up to someone, had allowed someone else to infiltrate his world. Lovey looked up from the pictures, her eyes cold as she met Victor's gaze. "Do you have anything else?" she asked, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and disbelief. Victor nodded, handing her a final picture. This one was different, more intimate. It showed Doubra and Darego sitting together at a park bench, their faces inches apart, lost in a private conversation. The air between them felt thick with unspoken emotions, the moment suspended in time. The way Darego was looking at him, the soft smile tugging at her lips, it was as if they shared a private joke, an unspoken understanding. And Doubra? He had a look on his face Lovey knew too well, one of familiarity, of comfort, of someone who had found a safe space in another person. There it was. The proof she had been dreading. Lovey stared at the photo, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk as a chill ran through her. For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Everything she had feared was becoming real before her eyes. Doubra had found someone, someone who had captured his attention, someone who seemed to be filling the gap she hadn't even known existed. Victor, ever the professional, didn't say anything, knowing full well the gravity of the situation. He merely slid the next few photos forward. There were more images of Doubra and Darego, casual moments, like laughing together on a bench, standing in line at a café, exchanging words with ease. No photos were overtly intimate, but the comfort and ease they shared were unmistakable. Lovey's mind raced as she took in each image. It was all too clear now. Darego wasn't just a passing acquaintance. The bond between them was deepening, and with each photo, Lovey felt something in her chest tighten. She could no longer ignore it. She had known, deep down, that something was off, that Doubra had been distracted. But seeing it now, seeing the connection between them so clearly laid out before her, it hit her in a way nothing else had. This wasn't just a passing fling. Doubra had opened up to someone, had allowed someone else to infiltrate his world. Lovey looked up from the pictures, her eyes cold as she met Victor's gaze. "Do you have anything else?" she asked, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and disbelief. Victor nodded, handing her a final picture. This one was different, more intimate. It showed Doubra and Darego sitting together at a park bench, their faces inches apart, lost in a private conversation. The air between them felt thick with unspoken emotions, the moment suspended in time. Lovey stared at the photo, her chest constricting. It was clear now, this wasn't just about business or friendship. Doubra had allowed Darego into his life in a way that felt significant. A surge of emotions bubbled inside her, anger, hurt, confusion. For a moment, she felt like her world had tilted on its axis. How had this happened? How had she missed it? She looked back at Victor, her jaw clenched. "Keep an eye on them. I need to know everything. Don't let them out of your sight." Victor gave a slight nod, his face expressionless. "Of course, Ma'am. I'll continue to gather whatever I can." As he left the room, Lovey sank back into her chair, her eyes still locked on the pictures. Doubra had betrayed her in a way she hadn't expected. The trust they had built, the quiet moments they had shared, all seemed distant now. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the photo once more. Darego. That was the name that haunted her now. The woman who had stolen Doubra's attention, his time, his affection. Lovey couldn't let this go. Not now. Not when so much was at stake. She would find out who Darego was, and she would make sure her place in Doubra's life remained secure. Doubra sat in his car outside the small café, the engine idling quietly as the world outside seemed to blur. He had just dropped Darego off at her apartment, her soft smile still lingering in his mind. But now, as he sat alone in the car, his thoughts began to pull him in a different direction. The weight of the secret he carried seemed to press harder against his chest with each passing moment. He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the steering wheel as his mind wandered, torn between his desires and the reality of his situation. Should I tell her? The question haunted him constantly. He'd been wrestling with it for weeks now. Since the moment he met Darego, something about her had drawn him in, something he hadn't expected. She was different, refreshing, compassionate, unguarded in a way that made him feel like maybe he could let down his walls, if only for a moment. But every time he considered sharing his truth, the same doubts clouded his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair, staring at his reflection in the rearview mirror. What would she think of me? The thought stung. Darego had a kindness that made him feel safe, but there was a part of him, the part that was burdened with his illness and his fear, that wasn't sure if he could trust her with this piece of himself. She was so full of life, so carefree, and he didn't want to drag her into his world of uncertainty and pain. He had built a life of carefully constructed stability, a life where no one saw the cracks, where no one knew the truth behind his silence. But now, with Darego, those cracks were starting to show. The weight of his diagnosis, the years of medical tests, the pills, the endless doctors' appointments, it had all been so much to carry on his own. And then there was the infertility. That, perhaps, was the hardest part. He had been told, years ago, that he wouldn't be able to father children. The news had shattered him in ways he never fully expressed to anyone. He had kept it a secret, just like everything else. How could I tell her? He thought. How could I explain that the life I've worked so hard to build, this image of the strong, independent man, is a lie? His mind flashed to moments he'd shared with Darego, the way she'd talked about her dreams of family, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of children. It was clear she valued the idea of family, of connection. And the idea of not being able to give that to her, of not being enough for her, was terrifying. The sound of his phone vibrating on the seat next to him pulled him from his thoughts. He looked at the screen. It was Darego. A simple text. I had a great time tonight. Thanks for everything. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at her words, the warmth of her kindness washing over him. But beneath that warmth was the cold, hard truth, he couldn't keep pretending. She deserved the truth, even if it meant risking everything he had with her. But what if it changes everything? The fear was real, visceral. He had already lost so much. His career, his freedom, his health, all of it had been tainted by the diagnosis. And now, there was this beautiful woman who had come into his life, someone he genuinely cared about. Could he risk losing her too? Could he really put her through the uncertainty and heartbreak that came with his illness? His fingers hovered over the phone, his thumb shaking slightly as he debated what to do. He could text her back, pretend everything was fine, and keep the distance. He could keep hiding. It had been his default mode for years. Or, he could open up. Tell her the truth. Let her in. But he wasn't sure if he could handle the consequences. He stared at the text again, the words she had sent ringing in his ears. Thanks for everything. The simplicity of it cut through the noise in his head. Maybe it wasn't the grand declaration he feared, but the trust in those simple words felt like a bridge, one that could either lead to deeper connection or fall apart under the weight of the truth. Am I ready to share this with her? He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. He thought about the future, his future. The future he had imagined with Darego in it. It was easy to picture a life with her. A life full of hope, laughter, and love. But then the reality hit him like a wave. That future wasn't guaranteed. He couldn't promise her a family, a child, the life she may want. And that terrified him. A low sigh escaped his lips as he glanced at the text once more. He couldn't avoid it forever. Something had to change. He couldn't keep running from this forever. The fear of rejection, the shame, the guilt, it was all so heavy. But he knew, deep down, that if he didn't take the step toward honesty, he would lose her anyway. But telling her, how could he tell her? Could he find the right words? The question lingered in his mind, unanswered for now, as he started the car. He wasn't ready to share his truth yet. But perhaps, in time, he would be. For Darego's sake. For his own sake. As the engine roared to life and he drove off into the night, the decision weig