Chapter Text
Cloud stretched and yawned, reaching for the pillow beside him. As he slowly opened his eyes, a sigh escaped his lips, “I miss you so much.” He turned to the nightstand and picked up the photo frame. A wistful smile crossed his face. “I dreamed of you, and you were as beautiful as ever.” He pressed a kiss to the picture, whispering, “I love you.” After a moment of reflection, he placed the photo back down and rose from the bed. Following a lengthy shower, he descended the stairs, his mood noticeably somber.
"I trust you had a good night's rest."
He resisted the urge to sigh at the sound of the voice. So much like Mina, “I did.” She fell into step with him before his feet could land on the next step of the stairs. He averted and stared. She smiled. His heart stopped its beating. He took in a huge breath, urging himself not to think of her as his Mina. After staring at her for a moment, he managed to smile back. “You look lovely today. Where are you going?”
Tifa remarked casually, offering a light shrug, "Nowhere in particular."
Cloud tilted his head slightly. "How long will you be staying here?"
She lifted an eyebrow in mild disbelief. “As you mentioned earlier, I’m not obligated to respond to every part of your inquiry if I intend to remain in this house. Do you not recall that?”
Cloud narrowed his eyes at her, then continued his descent down the stairs in silence, opting to ignore her completely and forgoing breakfast. He left the house, glancing briefly at the servants. The sun shone brightly above, complemented by a soft breeze that occasionally drifted by. He got into his car and drove off, determined to have a delightful day.
Fatigue continued to build within him. Since Mina's passing, restful sleep has eluded him. He recalled her adorable, pouting lips and her strikingly beautiful eyes; however, the fierce and unwavering gaze of her sister seemed to linger. The anger they inspired stirred something deep within him. The eyes that had looked at him just thirteen minutes earlier no longer mirrored Mina's. He wished she had never come to visit. He hadn’t even heard her reasons for staying, and the eyes of every employee, still haunted by the events of last night’s break-in, bore into him with intensity. He acknowledged them with a nod as he walked by. It was the oppressive silence that propelled him forward. “Coffee, Mr. Strife?”
“I’d like it black; no sugar, please, Kyrie.” He placed his black briefcase on the desk and took a seat in his chair. His gaze drifted briefly to the file cabinet, and a soft curse slipped from his enticing lips.
"Good morning, Cloud." Startled at the sound, he turned abruptly toward the entrance. Cissnei offered a warm smile as she shut the door behind her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"What brings you here?"
“To talk about our wedding, of course.”
His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her. "Not right now, Cissnei. My wife was laid to rest just a week ago." He pressed his hand against the armchair and swiftly rose to his feet. He gazed at the photo frame of Mina resting on the edge of his desk. A wave of guilt washed over him. He averted his gaze and stared out at the city. Suddenly, a hand glided down his back and then moved to his neck, providing a soothing massage.
"I understand that this is painful, Cloud, but I am now your fiancée. It's important for you to move on from this."
He moved her hands away and turned to look at her directly. “Cissnei, you lack any real knowledge of love. Throughout all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never been in love.”
She clenched her jaw tightly. "Then explain to me why we are getting married."
"You are fully aware of the reason. It’s solely to assist your father and my business." He paused, "I'm still in love with my wife, Cissnei."
“But it was you who finalized the marriage agreement.”
“I know,” Cloud remarked as he kept moving forward. She followed him closely, seized his arm, and turned to face him. With a weary breath, he gently released her fingers from his hold. "I genuinely believe it would be best for you to head home, Cissnei."
“No, Cloud.”
He shut his eyes momentarily. Upon reopening them, a fierce and impatient intensity burned within: "Although I requested your hand from your father, it was solely for business purposes. I am not seeking anything beyond that."
“Then what led you to ask me on the day of your wife's funeral?"
With a heavy sigh, Cloud turned away and approached his desk, taking a seat while resting his forehead in his hands. "Cissnei, just go, please."
"I would like to schedule the wedding for next month, Cloud."
"I will take care of the planning, not you." He looked at her from between his outstretched arms and grunted, "Don’t assume that my decision to marry you means I love you, Cissnei. It does not. You are no longer the naive girl I once knew. You changed."
Cissnei lifted her chin defiantly and said, “You’ve always been aware of my feelings for you. Ever since we were children, I’ve had a crush on you.”
He offered a half-smile and a smirk, saying, “You’re quite fortunate this time, Cissnei, as you’ll soon be marrying me. Don’t you agree? You should feel pleased about it.”
She restrained herself from snapping at him, simply saying, “Goodbye.” She paused for his reply, but when he remained silent and merely waved his hands, she stamped her foot in frustration and stormed out, brushing past Kyrie.
"Mr. Strife, would you still like your coffee?"
“Of course,” he groaned, extending his hand toward it, his gaze locked on the empty sheet of paper beneath him. Once the mug was securely in his grasp, he lifted it to his mouth and took a large, scalding sip. Kyrie watched intently, worried he might burst at any moment. When he remained composed, she cleared her throat.
"A meeting will commence in the conference room in fifteen minutes, Mr. Strife."
“Of course,” he murmured once more.
Kyrie lifted her eyebrows in a gesture of apology and remarked, "In that case, I will update you on the other conferences at a later time." He gestured with his hands, encouraging her to share the information. As she began to speak, he shut his eyes, tuning out her words.
The idea of marriage loomed large in his mind. Despite his lack of interest in remarrying, he sensed an unavoidable compulsion to move forward. This was not a result of any business concerns; in fact, there were no financial issues involved. He closed his eyes firmly, wrestling with the truth that Cissnei had been romantically involved with the person responsible for Mina's tragic demise. Under the false impression that he was unaware of their relationships, both women had become entangled with the same man.
Each Friday evening, Cloud would shadow Mina to the club known as The Turks, where he would conceal himself in the shadows. He realized he should have confronted the man before any further developments occurred, and witnessing her in another man's embrace, her belly swelling with child, caused a pain he had never experienced before. The sight was unforgiving, but it was forgetful; he still could not shake it from his mind.
Had he declined the invitation to dinner with Cissnei that Friday, he could have evaded the devastating revelation of his wife's lifeless body on the bed. His wife lay motionless on the bed, a casualty of suicide, but he felt there was a more profound narrative surrounding her demise.
The sole path to revealing the truth behind Mina's suicide lay in marrying Cissnei. She had a close bond with the man—more than just a close bond. She was intertwined with her death.
He doesn't care about the opinions of others. He is willing to risk his wife's sister's condemnation if he seeks the true cause of his wife's suicide. She did want to know the real reason, didn’t she?
“Mr. Strife.”
Cloud suddenly opened his eyes and exclaimed, "What?!"
“The meeting is about to begin.”
"What are you waiting for? Let's get moving." Kyrie, momentarily confused, trailed behind her supervisor. "If you have any thoughts to share during the meeting, please express them instead of remaining silent. I expect you to diligently take notes, focusing only on the key points discussed by others and myself."
"My commitment to serving you, Mr. Strife, arises from my awareness of my duties."
Cloud turned to her, a look of confusion on his face, and responded with a grin, “Of course.” He then continued his walk, a blend of confusion and amusement apparent in his expression. Following a short elevator ride, he stepped into the conference room, acknowledging the attendees with a nod before settling into his position at the head of the table. Glancing at his white quartz steel strap watch, he realized that the meeting was only six minutes away. He cleared his throat, resting his head on his hand as he concentrated on the empty sheet of paper in front of him. A sudden noise interrupted his focus, causing him to glance up in annoyance before directing his attention back downwards. His heart raced with sudden intensity. He glanced upward once more, astonished by what he saw.
"Mr. Strife, it is time to begin." Despite hearing his secretary's voice, he chose to ignore her, instead focusing on the person exchanging pleasantries with a colleague. He dismissed her call of "Mr. Strife" yet again.
“What?!” He pivoted abruptly, his gaze sharpening as it fixed on Kyrie. She flinched a bit, taking a quick breath. He blinked in astonishment at his own reaction, deliberately avoiding eye contact with his now silent employees. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and quietly offered an apology as he stood up. Even though Kyrie stepped back at first, she moved forward once more when he signaled for her to approach. He leaned in close to her ear and softly inquired, “Who is that?”
“Who is who?”
"That woman," he said, but his sentence faltered as he caught the frown on his secretary's face. "What is it?" he asked.
"She is your sister-in-law, Mr. Strife," she declared, her frown deepening. "Are you feeling okay?"
Cloud offered a subtle nod, finding it difficult to express his thoughts. He gestured for her to step aside, then proceeded forward and faced his adviser. He didn't need to turn to meet her eyes; she regarded him with a trace of amusement. A subtle smile appeared on his lips, but it soon disappeared. He turned away, picked up his pointing stick, and loosened his black satin tie. He coughed as though he were fighting for air, and at that moment, a glass of water materialized in front of him.
With gratitude, Cloud accepted the cup and drank the water in a single gulp. He returned the cup to Kyrie and wiped his mouth clean. “What’s the matter with you?” he questioned himself. Turning back to his advisers, he offered a tentative smile and said, "Good morning, everyone. I believe yesterday we were discussing the recent developments of Strife's Tech, Inc. We received a copy of the chip and sent it to Kalm. I am confident that once we secure and reserve it, it will be fully operational for others. This is about safeguarding against viruses.” He glanced at Tifa before proceeding.
Although he was entirely dedicated to choosing his words with precision, his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her. It seemed unlikely that she could ascend to the role of advisor, so how had she landed the position? Throughout their years of knowing each other, she had shown little interest in technology. Yet, as he occasionally watched her, he noticed her taking notes on his words with a newfound curiosity.
He wrapped up by stating, "That's all for today." As he descended, he gathered his belongings, his eyes following Tifa as she stood up from her seat with the others.
“Mr. Strife, your cabinet member is expecting you for a meeting shortly.”
“I’ll be back in time.”
“But—”
"Please hold it off until I return, Kyrie." Cloud moved past her quickly, scanning for Tifa. As he exited the conference room, he caught sight of Tifa, who had a mischievous smile on her face as she rounded the corner. "A game, is it?" He muttered under his breath, showing little interest. Moistening his parched lips, he pursued her. Upon reaching the double doors, he saw the other set close behind her. Frowning, he quickened his pace. Just as the door was about to shut, he pressed his palm against it and swung it open. After taking four steps, he halted and turned sharply. "Good day, Mr. Strife."