"I heard from Coco that Sinclair is nothing, but a friend." Zaque said, his arms crossed and face tense.
In the kitchen, a different conversation was taking place, the tone and topic a complete opposite with that of Coco's and Sinclair's.
The air in the kitchen was filled with the sound of utensils clanking against the counter, water running from the faucet, and chairs skidding across the floor, mixed with the occasional soft murmur of conversation between Zaque and the other mediators.
The atmosphere was busy and tense— the tension and seriousness could be cut clean by a butter knife if someone had tried.
Alhai, who was busy washing the dishes, rolled his eyes at what Zaque said. "Ah, the classic line of spouses who are either having an affair with their 'friend' or had already fallen in love with said friend."
Zaque snapped his attention to Alhai, his expression stern and his tone firm.
