Days passed, and Jeff stayed true to his word. He didn’t push. He didn’t call incessantly or ambush me with declarations of love. He was... patient.
Too patient.
He sent coffee to the office every now and then—always the right kind, always with a sticky note bearing some quiet inside joke or half-forgotten memory scrawled on it. A small, warm reminder of the life we once shared. A life that, despite everything, still lingered in the corners of my mind like the faint smell of cologne on a scarf I hadn’t worn in years.
I wanted to believe him.
God, a part of me did.
But there was still a wall between us—thin, invisible, but tall as hell. And I didn’t know how to tear it down without hurting myself in the process.
One evening, I stayed late at the office, going over files that didn’t really need my attention. I just… needed the noise. The distraction.
Chelsea wandered in around 7 p.m., her coat draped over one arm and a curious look on her face.
“So,” she said, dragging a chair up to my
