The fight (3)

Marcel arrived early early at the reserved room. Dressed in an elegant blue tailor made suit.

He sat in waiting for Ivy to arrive. He was nervous to meet her after so many years apart. Meeting again was the most nerve wrecking thing that he had done for a long time.

As he waited in the room. He anxiously shot his gaze to the door every minute hoping it would swing open and reveal the presence of his wife.

With every minute that passed, his palms and forehead grew sweaty. The wait was driving him out of his mind.

When the door swang open. Marcel instinctively got up from his seat. Ivy peeked into the room.

The waiter led her to the table infront of the floor to the ceiling window that looks over the sparkling city.

Ivy glanced at the city for a moment. Catching her breath and resisting the urge to look up to her husband.