“Ah, Mr. Fernandez. It's been a while."

The deserted road bore no other soul. Together, the two men, mirror images in height and build, composed a striking scenery.

Yet, underneath this tranquil facade, tension roiled.

Their handshake, seemingly composed, belied the strain in their arms, their muscles contesting in silence.

Their eyes locked, charged with an intangible friction.

Rosalynn's brows creased at the sight of their prolonged grip.

“Brian, shall we go now?"

She harbored a fleeting fear that Brian might strike Lyndon at any moment .

Brian eased his grip, stepped back, and drew Rosalynn into his embrace.

“Mr. Fernandez, I appreciate you driving my wife. We'll take our leave now."

His declaration was both subtle and sovereign.

Lyndon offered a polite smile.

“Of course. Rosa once saved my life, a debt I'm bound to honor. Should she call, I'm at her service."

His tone was steady, yet it bore an edge of irrefutable resolve.

Brian's hold on Rosalynn's shoulder tightened instinctively.

He sensed Lyndon's underlying interest in his wife, an irritation to any husband.

“Mr. Fernandez, no imposition is necessary. As her husband, I am quite capable of attending to my wife's needs."

With that, he ushered Rosalynn towards their car without another word.

Rosalynn turned around, offering Lyndon a courteous smile before slipping into the car.

The vehicle pulled away briskly, its departure marked by a plume of exhaust.