His mother, his woman - 5

As the evening wound down, the guests gradually departed from the backyard, their laughter and chatter fading into the night. All that remained were the dying embers of the bonfire, casting a faint glow, and an unspoken tension that hung in the air.

Inside the kitchen, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken words as Jaegar leaned against the kitchen island, his knuckles white around his whiskey glass.

As the backyard emptied, Megan hesitated in the kitchen doorway, her intuition alerting her to the tension crackling between Jaegar and Diana like static before a storm. The room felt charged with unspoken words and suppressed emotions.

Her eyes darted between Jaegar's rigid posture and Diana's anxious fidgeting. "Should I... perhaps I could stay and help clean up?" She offered tentatively.

Diana managed a weak smile. "No, it's fine. I'll come by later, Megan. Thank you for everything today."