A Father’s Regret

An intense silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken tension, as Martin and David sat in Martin's opulent home bar. 

The room was a masterclass in refined elegance, with rich wood paneling that seemed to absorb the soft glow of the dim lighting, and crystal glasses that sparkled like diamonds on the polished shelves. 

The scent of aged leather and fine whiskey wafted through the space, but the atmosphere remained heavy, weighed down by the unspoken words between the two men.

Patricia poured David a generous glass of scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light as she handed it to him with a discreet smile. 

She seemed to sense the storm brewing between Martin and David, and with a quiet intuition, she beat a tactful retreat, leaving the both of them alone in the bar. 

The soft click of the door as she exited was like a punctuation mark, underscoring the tension that now hung in the air, heavy with anticipation.