After a seemingly interminable moment, he finally glanced at Cecilia, noticing the reddened skin of her hand from excessive rubbing. He whispered, “I wasn't expecting her to be here tonight. Still, it's rude to just leave. I assure you, I didn't even share a handshake with her. If you need proof, Peter can vouch for me."

Cecilia's gaze remained downwards, her lips catching between her teeth in contemplation.

“Peter's loyalty lies with you. How can he be impartial in this?"

Her tone suggested a mix of skepticism and mild frustration with Mark's reasoning, though she refrained from outwardly expressing her discontent.

In social settings, men often had to navigate tricky dynamics, and not playing along could label them as party-poopers.

Yet, as a woman, Cecilia couldn't suppress her emotions entirely.

She struggled with her feelings, unsure of how to communicate her discomfort.

Mark, yearning for Cecilia after their month-long separation, tried to caress her hair. However, she swiftly dodged his advance.

"You stink," she remarked.

With a soft chuckle, Mark responded, "You're being a tad dramatic."

Gently drying his hands, he playfully pinched her cheek.

“Come, greet them with me, and afterward, we can head home together."

After he spoke, Mark reached out to hold Cecilia's hand.

Cecilia pulled away.

"I don't want to go," she murmured, her voice taking on a gentle lilt.

Mark found the lilt endearing.

He met her gaze, and his voice hushed so others wouldn't hear.

“Why the drama? You'll feel left out if I don't introduce you. Yet, if I do, you'll be all awkward."

Leaning on the door, Cecilia distractedly toyed with her nails.

"You shouldn't have agreed to sit next to her."