The origin and end of things are like mist and rain

I came home after a two-week business trip.

As I pushed open the door, my fiancée Giselle’s assistant, Zion, was slamming my late father's pocket watch onto the floor.

I slapped him hard across the face, my voice tight with rage. "Get the hell out."

Giselle rushed out at the sound of the commotion, pulling him behind her and shielding him from me.

“It’s just a stupid pocket watch! So what if Zion broke it?” she snapped, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Your dad's dead. What's the use of k