“Cheers,” Anna mouthed softly, raising her glass in his direction. Her hand was steady, but her eyes betrayed a glint of hesitance, as if questioning whether a toast could really wash away the weight of the unspoken.
“Cheers,” Oliver echoed, lifting his glass in a shaky hand. He took a sip, the bubbly liquid failing to wash away the lump in his throat. His gaze returned to the laptop, now dark as it had gone into sleep mode, its screen a black void that seemed to mirror his own internal conflict.