I pulled the car over to the side of the road, the engine's quiet hum fading into silence. Through the windshield, the river stretched before us like a dark mirror, reflecting the city lights in fractured patterns.
Evelyn sat motionless for a long moment, staring out at the water. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, knuckles white with tension.
"I need to walk," she said finally.
We got out of the car and made our way down to the riverbank. The night air was cool against our skin, carrying the faint scent of water and distant rain. Evelyn walked ahead of me, her steps measured but unsteady.
When she reached the water's edge, she stopped. Her shoulders began to shake.
"I lost everything tonight," she whispered.
I moved closer, close enough to hear her voice over the gentle lapping of water against the shore.
"Three years of building relationships. Three years of earning trust. Three years of proving that I could run this company."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
