The day began as usual—quietly, orderly and under control. Sunlight marked the morning as it streamed through Yoren’s tall curtains, casting soft lines across the cold marble floor. The air felt clean and cool, carrying the faint scent of cedarwood that always filled the room each morning.Yoren stood in front of a large mirror, observing his reflection. A black suit fell neatly over his shoulders, forming a sharp silhouette that reflected his discipline.Behind him stood Ruth. As usual, she moved efficiently, making invisible adjustments to the final details.Yoren picked up his tie, lifted it, and hooked it around his collar. His movements were calm and measured, like a ritual he had performed hundreds of times, until suddenly they stopped. He froze, not because he had forgotten the next step or made a mistake, but because he felt something inexplicable.One second, two seconds, and it continued. Time seemed to hold its breath along with Yor
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