"What was that Idris?" Catrin asked, suddenly halting in her steps and turning to look at her husband. "Was it so difficult to support your wife there?"
Idris simply gazed at Catrin and took a deep breath as if he were already exhausted. "There was also no need for me to side with you specifically," he said, unhooking his arms from her. "Catrin, we are just keeping up the facade. I will be your husband when it's truly needed, but for the rest time, don't expect me to stand for you like I always did."
"Idris, you are my husband!"
She had never realized how much she needed him on her side until today. All this while she thought his words were just an addition and not something important. But today, when he didn't take her side like he always did, she realized it wasn't something dispensable—it was something she needed —always has needed.
But since he always given it without her asking … she never valued it truly. And had started taking it for-granted.
Idris heard her and couldn't help but smile, the curl of his lips carrying a kind of disdain.
Catrin was confused seeing him like that. With her brows knitted tightly, she was about to ask him why he was smiling like that when Idris nodded as if accepting some accusation.
"Yes, I am your husband," he said. "I have always been a husband, so much so that I forgot to be someone else. What else do you think I am regretting?"
"You regret?" Catrin fumed.
However, Idris remained very casual as if he knew what he said and didn't feel remorseful for a word he said.
"I do regret, Catrin. But I also know it's too late to regret."
"You —"
"Vent out later," Idris interrupted. "For now, let's head in first." With that said, he didn't wait for her to walk with him. He simply walked past her, heading straight to the hall where everyone was gathered.
Catrin glowered behind him, but there was nothing she could do. Thus, soon she also followed him.
She decided to talk to Idris later. For now, she wanted to focus on talking to decision makers.
Meanwhile, upstairs in one of the suites,
Brenda was finally ready to enter the hall. Looking at her at the moment, nothing looked out of place. She was dressed in a knee-length dress, styled perfectly to suit the elegance of her old age.
Seeing her like that, no one would even barely doubt her to be sick. Her illness was perfectly concealed behind her charming confidence and the make-up she had never let go of, even after so many years.
"Ma'am," Margaret approached with a jacket, holding it for the old lady to slip on.
Brenda looked at her and smiled before moving her frail arm to put them on. "Thank you, Margaret," she gratefully reciprocated. "Has everyone arrived downstairs?"
Margaret nodded. "Yes, they have." She hesitated a little and added, "Ms. Catrin has arrived sometime before."
"And?"
Even though Margaret didn't say any further, Brenda knew her daughter too well to know that her arrival wouldn't be as simple as just arriving.
Margaret frowned. "And she gave some comment to the reporters at the entrance, making them think that the position of the company's President is still not accepted by everyone. They have been speculating since. Even they are speculating that … that you are using your power and position to promote someone you are biased about."
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