Every second that passed was a drop in the ocean of eternity, and yet, those moments felt incredibly pressing, as if time itself was holding its breath, awaiting his words. He opened the laptop, but before he could turn it towards her, he looked into Anna’s eyes. She looked eager and maybe even a little worried, like she really wanted to understand what was going on.
Oliver’s hand wavered over the touchpad, the arrow on the screen hovering over the file that contained the damning—or exonerating—evidence. “What if I’m wrong?”, he thought, “What if my suspicions are just figments of an overactive imagination?”.