As their meal is served, she can't help but notice the whispers and sidelong glances from the other diners.
The atmosphere in the restaurant has shifted, and she feels like she's the center of attention.
The air is thick with tension, a palpable energy that hangs between them like a shroud.
The whispers start subtly, a low murmur at a nearby table, a curious glance from a passing waiter.
Robin feels the heat rising in her cheeks, her heart pounding against her ribs.
"What's the hell?" she asks, her voice barely a murmur..
Malik's gaze flickers to the source of the whispers, his face a mask of indifference. "Don't worry about it, Ms Emerson. It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," she says, her voice rising in frustration. "Everyone's looking at us."
"They're just curious," he says, his voice a low growl. "Don't let them bother you, charlotte. These people thrive on drama. It'll blow over soon enough."
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