"So… sorry," Charles blurted out, his voice shaky with embarrassment.
He gave a slight bow of his head toward the onlookers as a silent apology.
In response, a few employees scoffed and rolled their eyes before turning their attention elsewhere, clearly unimpressed.
Charles sighed deeply, dragging his palm across his forehead as though trying to rub away the tension that clung to him like a second skin. "I… I didn't mean to yell," Charles muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes softened as they met Freda's, laced with regret.
Freda blinked, still trying to process the outburst. "What was that about?" she asked, her voice low but firm.
Her gaze lingered on Charles, a mixture of concern and surprise swirling in her eyes.
From the very first day she met Charles, he had always been the calm one, the gentle soul who never raised his voice—never lost control. But this moment… this very moment had just rewritten that image.
