Meanwhile, at the Smith estate.
That night, Harry stepped into Mr. Smith's study, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows on the walls. His father, Reginald Smith, looked up from the papers scattered before him and adjusted his glasses to settle on the bridge of his nose.
"Harry, what brings you here so late?" Reginald's tone was measured and his gaze was piercing.
Harry stood with his head bowed, feeling distressed. He knew that going to his father to take back what he'd said that morning was going to be a big deal, but he still had to say it.
Harry's voice was steady as he raised his head to meet his father's gaze. "Dad, I won't call off the engagement anymore. I want to marry Zoey."
The room fell silent, the ticking clock on the mantle the only sound. Mr. Smith's gaze never wavered, his eyes boring into Harry's. "Is this because of your mother?" he asked calmly, his voice deceptively even.
