Anticipation’s crescendo
The hour had arrived, and with it, a palpable tension that seemed to pulse with the night’s rhythm. We had taken our positions, each of us silent sentinels of the plan we hoped we’d never have to enact. Vivian clutched the velvet pouch tightly, the jewels inside an unspoken question mark against the canvas of our future. Every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind, felt like a prelude to a climax we both dreaded and yearned for.