The Spy uncovered

In the Quiet apartment, veiled in a shroud of uncertainty, Two men in suits crossed the threshold. their presence carries an air of both authority and concern. Their journey led them to the small bedroom, where an easel stood, adorned with unfinished canvases and a palette of colors scrambled along the floor.

As pain etched deep within his eyes, one of the men crumbled to the floor, his body weighed down by a heavy burden. Tears fell upon the stained wooden floor, merging with the remnants of the past.

With a heart heavy with regret, the crying man's voice quivered as he spoke between sobs, a mantra of remorse echoing in the room.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I wasn't here."

A compassionate figure stands beside him, offering solace and understanding. In a gentle gesture, the doctor's hand rested upon the trembling shoulder of the weeping man.

"Marcus,This is not your fault,"his voice carried a sense of conviction.

Consumed by guilt, Marcus turned his tear-stained face to meet the doctor's gaze. The depths of his anguish and self-doubt were laid bare in his eyes. "What if it is?" his words dredged out from the recesses of his heart. The weight of his sins and the life he has led holding them down.