The torn remains of the private marriage agreement remained scattered across Xaviere's mahogany desk like fallen leaves. The shredded white paper covered the dark leather blotter, marking the end of a document that had once bound them to corporate obligations.
Neither of them moved for several long seconds, letting the silence settle around them.
The quiet atmosphere no longer felt cold or uncomfortable between them. Instead, it carried the profound, undeniable weight of a choice neither had anticipated making when their paper marriage first began weeks ago.
Zeraida slowly withdrew her hand from Xaviere's chest, taking a small step back.
"Then it is officially your turn," she said quietly, her dark eyes holding his.
His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he analyzed her composed posture. "My turn for what, Zeraida?"
"To decide what happens next," she explained, holding her ground.
He studied her expressive face, understanding the true nature of her challenge immediately.
