“I understand, Harold,” Paula whispered, her voice a fragile mix of resignation and disbelief. Her hand, trembling slightly, motioned toward the door. “Please, just leave. I need a moment.” The papers in her grip felt impossibly heavy, each word she spoke pounding against her heart like a hammer. Harold’s gaze lingered on her; a fleeting shadow of regret flickered across his face. But he said nothing, and the silence hung between them as he turned to go.