Their relationship was a tangle of rights and wrongs, perhaps misguided from the start.

From then on, Mark withdrew.

He ceased his overtures, kept abreast of her life only through snippets. Her career moves, social life, unsuccessful blind dates.

Their paths crossed sporadically, thanks to the kids, with brief, indifferent exchanges.

Mark wasn't sure if it was surrender.

He'd offered happiness; she'd declined, pained by his methods.

He faded from her world, yet funded almost all of Simon's productions.

Came summer, and Mark's health improved.

Charlie, having visited Mark a few times in Rouemn, had grown close.

He invited Mark to the club, where they played cards in a private room.

Inside a private room, Mark and friends were engrossed in a card game.

Charlie, the ever-vigilant host, prohibited smoking. He joked, “Mark's looking better. Must be the lack of female company," earning a glare and a curse from Mark.

Men together could be so unguarded.

Eventually, Charlie's craving for a cigarette led him outside.

By chance, Cecilia was there too, stunning in a dress adorned with pearls, her black hair cascading down her back.

Intent on flirtation, Charlie stopped short upon recognizing her.

Quick to recover, he grinned.

“Cecilia, good to see you! Some friends of mine are here. Care to join us?"

Unsuspecting, Cecilia agreed, out of respect for the past.

Charlie's charm was persuasive, his banter keeping her entertained as they walked.