Flames of love and war
“You were at the meeting, weren’t you?”
Surprise reflected in his eyes, and he hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. It went well.”
“Well,” I repeated, chuckling low. “That’s what weak men say when they’ve compromised.”
Kelvin’s gaze snapped up, hard. “You think peace is weakness?”
“I think peace,” I said, leaning in just enough for him to smell the whiskey on my breath, “is an illusion the desperate cling to before the harsh reality smacks them in the face.”
He shook his head, eyes dark with something between anger and disappointment. “This isn’t the seventies, Dad. You can’t keep running everything like it’s a damn chessboard.”
Bab Populer