Novels by Aisha Vale

Isabel’s POVI almost didn’t go. I stood across the street from the café for a full minute, watching people come and go through the window, trying to convince myself that turning around now would be the kinder choice. To Camilla, to Nate, to myself. My phone buzzed. A message from Camilla. “I’m by the window. No pressure if you’re running late.”I looked up. She spotted me almost immediately and smiled, not because she’d caught me standing outside, but because she looked genuinely happy I’d come. There went my excuse. The little bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside. Camilla stood immediately. “I’m so glad you made it.” “So am I.” The lie came easily. She shrugged off her coat and sat back down. “I ordered water while I waited. I wasn’t sure if you’d want coffee or tea.” “I’ll take coffee.” “Good,” she said. “I’d have felt terrible if I’d guessed wrong.” I smiled despite myself. A waitress appeared, took my order, and disappeared again. For a second neither of us spoke,

Isabel’s POV I didn’t reply. Not that night. Not the next morning. Camilla’s message sat at the top of my screen like something alive, waiting for me to make the wrong decision. “Hi Isabel. It’s Camilla. Olivia gave me your number. I was wondering if you’d like to grab coffee sometime this week. It’d be nice to get to know you properly.” I read it three times before I finally locked my phone and got out of bed. It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense. Out of everyone in this city, the woman whose life I was quietly helping unravel wanted to be my friend. My phone buzzed again while I was brushing my teeth. Nate. Morning. Another message appeared almost immediately. Are you okay? Then — Please answer when you can. I stared at the screen for a long moment then closed the chat without replying. Not because I was angry. Because I didn’t know what to say. For the first time since this started I was holding something back from him and the feeling sat uncomfortab

Isabel’s Pov Nobody moved. The knock came again, louder this time. “Nate?” Every muscle in my body locked. I looked at him and he was already looking at me, the colour drained from his face. Another knock. Then — “Nate, seriously?” “What do we do?” I whispered. His eyes darted toward the hallway then back to me. “I don’t know.” “You don’t know?” “I wasn’t expecting—” The door handle shifted. Not enough to open. Just enough to remind us it could. My pulse shot into my throat. “Nate.” He closed his eyes for half a second then opened them again. “Bathroom,” he whispered. “What?” “Go.” I stared at him. “If it’s her, me walking out of your bathroom is worse.” Another knock, louder. “Oh my God, are you dead?” Silence. I frowned. That didn’t sound like Camilla. Nate frowned too. Then almost imperceptibly his shoulders loosened. Relief. He crossed the room and unlocked the door. The moment it opened Olivia pushed past him carrying a paper bag in one hand and her phone in the other. “There

Isabel’s PovNeither of us moved. The apartment had gone so quiet I could hear the refrigerator humming somewhere behind us. Nate was still standing exactly where he’d stopped, close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him, far enough that he still hadn’t touched me. “I should leave,” I said. It sounded weak. Like neither of us believed it. His eyes stayed on mine. “You don’t mean that.” “No.” A breath of laughter escaped me, brittle and humourless. “No, I don’t.” Silence settled again. Heavy. Suffocating. Every second filled with the same four words. I thought so. Camilla hadn’t shouted, she hadn’t cried, she hadn’t demanded answers. She’d simply looked at me like she’d already reached a conclusion. That was the part I couldn’t stop replaying. “She knows,” I said. Nate dragged a hand down his face. “I don’t know what she knows.” “She knew my name.” “I know.” “No.” I looked at him properly for the first time since I’d walked through his door. “You don’t. You weren’t stan

The moment Ethan’s office door closed behind me, I knew tonight was different.Not the usual residue, something sharper.He didn’t sit behind his desk the way he normally did-that careful professional distance he maintained just enough to make everything deniable. Tonight he was already on the same side of the room as me, jacket off, leaning against the table like we were colleagues catching up rather than a boss and his employee alone at six pm with everyone else gone.“Henderson landed perfectly,” he said. “You should feel good about that.”“The team worked hard,” I said.“I’m talking about you.”I smiled carefully. “Thank you.”“I want to take you to dinner.” He said it like it was already decided. “Soren. Tonight. To mark it properly.”Something tightened in my chest.“That’s generous, but I have plans—”“Cancel them.”Not a suggestion.The word landed flat and certain, and the temperature in the room dropped several degrees.I looked at him steadily.“I can’t,” I said.He studied

He didn’t leave.I felt it before I even turned — that quiet, steady presence behind me, like the moment hadn’t ended yet.I paused with my hand still on the door.Then I turned.He was exactly where I’d left him. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me like he was waiting for something.Or deciding something.I don’t know what I expected — that he’d go upstairs, that he’d give me space, that he’d do the sensible thing.He didn’t.“You didn’t have to stay,” I said.“I know.”“I’m fine.”His gaze didn’t shift. “I know that too.”That was the problem.I held his eyes for a second longer than necessary.Then stepped aside.He pushed off the wall and walked in like leaving had never actually been an option.I closed the door behind us.Didn’t lock it.Didn’t trust what that would mean.The lamp was already on — low, warm light filling the room just enough to soften the edges of everything.He stopped a few steps in.Didn’t move closer.Didn’t sit.Just stood there like he was