He raised a hand to take a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his lips like a mask, concealing his expression.
In the quiet standoff, Sylvia felt her heart skip a beat. She curled her fingers, forcing herself to stay calm.
Rupert lowered his gaze and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Let her go."
Sylvia withdrew her gaze, focusing on the water droplets trickling down the leaves of a houseplant. Her voice was cold. "Rupert, thanks for your help, but I won't need it anymore."
Rupert paused, his fingers hovering over the ashtray, eyes fixed on the figure disappearing down the street.
It wasn't until the phone buzzed behind him on the couch that his thoughts were interrupted.
Bailey.
"Still alive?"
"Not dead yet," Rupert replied, his tone icy.
"You really are something else. You were right; someone's finally made a move. Your little niece must be worried sick by now."
Bailey's voice was teasing, as she fiddled with her manicured nails.
Rupert pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's just distanced herself from me."
Bailey laughed heartily. "Maybe you should just give in to me instead. I'd take good care of you."
"No thanks."
"Ha!" Bailey chuckled. "You'd love that, but she ran off! Serves you right for being so stubborn!"
"She won't get far."
"I should applaud you for that one. The great Mr. Rupert, resorting to chasing after someone? Maybe you should toughen up your skin a bit."
"Keep an eye out. I'm hanging up."
After ending the call, Rupert took a couple of sips of his tea and made his way to the liquor cabinet, selecting the strongest bottle he could find.
...
Sylvia returned to Naomi's place, where the couple had been lounging together, enjoying a bowl of fruit. Seeing her come in, they awkwardly shifted apart.
Edwin quickly asked, "Is Rupert alright?"
Sylvia slung her bag over her shoulder. "He'll survive."
Naomi leaned in, holding her hand. "Survive? Is it that serious? Aren't you staying? Where are you going?"
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