LOGINMatthew unlocked the door and stepped inside.The air met him the same way it always had—still, faintly conditioned, untouched by anything personal. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in a muted wash of evening light that fell across the couch, the table, the untouched glassware.Nothing had changed. For a second, he just stood there, the handle still in his grip, his suitcase resting beside his leg like something he hadn’t fully decided to carry in.Then he let go. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.He walked further in, slow at first, his gaze sweeping the room like he expected something to jump out at him—some sign that things had changed while he was gone.There was nothing.He dropped the suitcase near the couch, the sound dulled against the carpet, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.His thumb hovered for a moment before dialing.The line rang and rang and rang.He pulled the phone away slightly, glanced at the screen, and then brought it back
For a while, Ava remained exactly where she was.The glass doors behind her reflected a version of herself that looked composed enough to pass for certainty. People moved past her without paying attention—heels clicking, phones pressed to ears, laughter slipping through passing conversations—and yet she stood still, as though stepping forward required more than just motion.Her fingers tightened slightly around her bag, then loosened.A breath settled in her chest, deeper this time, as something quiet but insistent began to take shape in her mind.Ava turned and walked into the office again. The movement was slow at first, almost hesitant, but by the time her heels carried her back toward the entrance, there was something steadier in her stride.Inside, the air felt different now.The earlier tension had dispersed into smaller pockets of whispered conversations and speculative glances. A few staff members lingered in corners, their voices low, their curiosity barely concealed.When M
The hall filled gradually, the low hum of voices weaving through the space like something alive. Chairs shifted against the polished floor. Papers rustled. A few quiet greetings passed between colleagues who had worked side by side long enough to recognize when something felt different. Ava stood just behind the side entrance, her fingers resting lightly against the cool surface of the wall. Through the narrow opening, she could see them. All of them. Departments that rarely overlapped now gathered in one place. Faces she knew. Some she didn’t. People who had built something under the same roof, each carrying their own version of what this company meant. Her gaze lingered. Then, they dropped briefly. A breath moved through her chest, slow, deliberate, as she straightened. “Are you ready?” Mr. Martins’ voice came from just behind her. Ava turned slightly. He stood a step away, his expression composed, though his eyes held a quiet weight. “As ready as I can be,” she replied.
Morning settled into the house with a quiet kind of certainty, the kind that didn’t ask permission before it arrived. Ava woke before the alarm. Her eyes opened slowly, not from rest, but from the weight of thoughts that had refused to loosen through the night. For a moment, she remained still. She listened to the faint rustle of movement. Closet doors and fabric shifting. She turned her head slightly. He stood near the wardrobe, already dressed, his back to her as he adjusted his cufflinks with careful precision. The suitcase lay open on the bed, neatly packed—her work from the night before, every item folded and placed with attention she hadn’t been able to give her own thoughts. Ava pushed herself up, the sheets falling softly around her as she sat. “You’re ready already,” she said, her voice carrying the softness of sleep, though her eyes were clear. Matthew glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t want to rush.” She nodded, slipping out of bed. “I’ll get dressed.” He watc
Matthew did not remember most of the drive home.He knew the turns by instinct, the rhythm of the road familiar enough to carry him even when his thoughts refused to stay in one place. By the time he pulled into the driveway, his hands still rested on the steering wheel a second longer than necessary, his fingers unmoving, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead that wasn’t really there.Inside, the house was quiet, but not empty.Ava sat in the living room, a book open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving across the page. She looked up at the sound of the door, surprise flickering across her face before she closed the book slowly.“Matthew?”He stepped in, loosening his tie as he walked, his movements lacking their usual precision.“You’re home,” she said, standing up. “At this time?”He nodded, avoiding her eyes for a brief moment as he set his keys down.“I couldn’t stay at the office.”Ava took a step closer, her brows knitting together slightly as she studied him.“Why?”Matthew exh
The documents in front of Matthew blurred long before he realized he had stopped reading them. Columns of numbers stretched across the page, neat and precise, but they refused to settle into meaning. His pen hovered above the paper, unmoving, the tip resting just close enough to leave a faint mark without intention. Across the room, the clock ticked. Matthew leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he dragged a hand down his face—the conversation from earlier resurfaced, unwelcome and persistent. She’s in the bathroom. The man’s voice had carried no hesitation. Matthew’s jaw tightened as he sat up again, his fingers tapping once against the desk before stilling. “This doesn’t add up,” he muttered under his breath. He reached for the file again, flipping a page as though determination alone might force his mind to cooperate. But it didn’t. Numbers slipped past him. Words blurred. Isabella’s voice threaded through the noise. You don’t need to worry about it. His
Morning light spilled through the thin curtains of the service apartment, pale and quiet, stretching across the wooden floor in long rectangles. The place still carried the faint warmth of the night before—rumpled couch cushions, the soft scent of coffee beginning to rise from the kitchen.Matthew
Ava didn’t answer.She stood there in front of his desk, hands resting lightly against the edge, her nails pressing into the polished wood without her realizing it. Matthew watched her in that steady way of his — not blinking much, not moving much either. He had always known how to wait her out.Wh
Matthew said nothing. But the surprise in his eyes lingered. It wasn’t outrage. It wasn’t anger. It was something quieter. Something unsettled. Like she’d shifted a piece on a board he hadn’t realized they were playing on. Ava didn’t mind. She let him look. Let him wonder. He lowered his gaze t
The bedroom smells faintly of his cologne.It lingers in the fabric of the curtains, in the collar of the shirts she hasn’t moved yet. Ava stands in the middle of the room with a pile of folded laundry in her arms, not sure how long she’s been standing there.The house is quiet. Sophie went to bed







