Hundred

*One Month Later*

The air had changed.

Christian hadn’t been seen publicly much since the confrontation. The media buzz had died down, though rumors still lingered like old perfume. His world was quieter now—but not peaceful.

He had grown leaner, not just in body but in spirit. The once-polished sharpness of his suits remained, but something in the way he wore them had shifted. His shoulders slouched more now, as though carrying the invisible weight of the choices he could never undo. The glint in his eye, the one that once came from pride or ambitionhad dulled into a deep, haunting silence.

His beard was more rugged, kept but not as precise, like a man who had stopped caring about mirrors. His hair fell loosely over his forehead, refusing the usual sculpted style that once defined his image. His skin was slightly pale, like someone who hadn’t seen much sunlight, but the most telling feature was his eyes—hollow, introspective, always looking past the present moment.

He still spoke in