His Childish Side

Iyana stifled a yawn, her eyes barely staying open as she leaned back in the plush velvet chair in Easton's office. The ornate clock on the wall ticked, each second of tiredness a reminder of the endless night she had spent talking to Vyan. 

Easton stood by his mahogany desk, a stack of papers in his hands. His polished boots clicked softly against the marble floor as he paced, his gaze fixed on the documents before him. 

He barely noticed her struggle to stay awake.

"Iyana, you don't need to return to work," Easton said, his tone as formal and cold as ever. "With the wedding just a month away, it is unnecessary for you to exert yourself. Your duties will change once we're married, and your focus should be on preparing for our future."

Iyana's stomach churned, her disinterest vanishing as his inconsiderate words cut through her. She fought to maintain a passive expression, but inside, she was seething.