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THE STORM

The gym was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the floor like silent witnesses. Christine hesitated just inside the doorway, her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Sean stood a few feet away, his silhouette illuminated faintly by the pale light seeping through the frosted windows. His blazer lay discarded on a nearby bench, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the strong lines of his chest. He was pacing, his movements erratic, frustration radiating off him in waves.

“Christine,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “Why Jide? Of all people… why him?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop her. “No, let me finish. I need to get this out before you brush me off again.”

Christine folded her arms, her stance defensive. “Sean, I didn’t come here for this. I have somewhere to be.” She glanced toward the door, but he shifted, subtly blocking her path.