CHAPTER 20: SHIFTING

✦ 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 ✦

The house was unusually quiet when I woke, and by six-thirty, I was pulling on my sneakers and moving as quietly as possible. The memory of getting caught outside Xavier's study the night before still lingered like a burn beneath my skin, so I grabbed my backpack and slipped into the hallway, hoping that if I left now, maybe I could avoid seeing him altogether.

I made it to the bottom of the staircase before the heavy door to Richard Cole's study opened and Xavier stepped out. He was already dressed for work in a charcoal suit with a leather folder tucked beneath one arm, but despite his polished appearance, exhaustion clung to him with dark shadows sitting beneath his eyes and a faint layer of stubble shadowing his jaw.

I froze beside the front door while neither of us spoke. Without breaking eye contact, Xavier crossed the foyer and casually tossed a familiar set of keys onto the marble console table as he passed.

Mine.

I stared at them, realizing I'd forgotten them in the kitchen yesterday. He hadn't reminded me or called after me. For some reason, that unsettled me far more than if he'd said anything at all. Before either of us could break the silence, I grabbed the keys, muttered a quiet "Thanks," and slipped outside into the cold morning air.

Three hours later, my distraction finally caught up with me while all the shortlisted fellowship candidates were gathered inside the economics seminar room.

Professor Harrison stood at the front with a clipboard tucked beneath his arm. "The interview panel isn't interested in memorised answers," he said, scanning the room. "They're looking for how you perform under pressure." His eyes landed on me and I straightened automatically. "Julian. Walk us through the regional liquidity report for Q3."

My stomach dropped because even though I knew the answer and had gone over those numbers countless times, when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. The room suddenly felt too warm as I swallowed, trying to force out, "I... The figures indicate a temporary surplus—"

"A surplus?" Tristan interrupted with a smug laugh from across the room. "Only if you ignore the debt coverage ratio. Once that's included, it's a deficit."

My professor nodded as his pen scratched across his clipboard. "Correct. Julian, you're usually better prepared than this, and I expect much more during next week's mock panel."

Heat climbed up my neck at the thought that weeks of preparation had been thrown completely off balance by a single sleepless night, and I hated it.

"Okay..." Leo caught up with me outside the building, grabbing my arm before I could disappear into the crowd. "What is actually going on with you? You've barely slept and you've been zoning out all week."

"I'm fine," I blinked, trying to pull away.

"No, you're not," his voice turned unusually serious. "You missed questions you could answer in your sleep."

I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away. "I just choked."

"Julian," Leo folded his arms, watching me closely.

The truth sat painfully in the back of my throat. *My stepbrother fixed my fellowship application, he cornered me in the hallway, and now I can't stop thinking about him.* The thoughts sounded ridiculous even inside my own head, so I lied quietly instead, staring at the ground. "It's just pressure from the fellowship, the project... everything."

Leo watched me for another long moment, clearly not believing me, but he sighed and clapped a hand against my shoulder anyway. "You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

"I know," I murmured, though I wasn't sure I actually did.

By six that evening, I walked back into the house to find the downstairs hallway quiet, except for Richard Cole's voice echoing through the partially open study door.

"...Unacceptable, Xavier," Richard snapped, his tone sharp. "I handed you that portfolio, and somehow you still let the board push you around."

"The numbers were flawed," Xavier's voice remained calm, though laced with fatigue. "If we'd approved them today, we'd have been audited before the end of the year."

"I don't care about excuses, I care about results," Richard replied, followed by the heavy thud of something slamming onto the desk.

Silence followed and I waited, expecting Xavier to argue, to push back or to become the same intimidating man who constantly left me speechless. Instead, his voice came through quiet and completely drained. 

"Understood. I'll rewrite the report tonight."

No anger, no resistance—just total exhaustion.

Something tightened painfully inside my chest as I realized I'd spent weeks convincing myself Xavier was untouchable, only to stand outside that study and see that he wasn't. Richard treated him like an employee who could never quite meet expectations, and Xavier simply endured it. Before anyone noticed me listening, I quietly backed away and headed upstairs.

The house was silent by midnight, but I couldn't sleep. Giving up, I threw on a hoodie and headed downstairs for a glass of water, only to catch a thin strip of light beneath the study door as I crossed the foyer.

I stopped, telling myself to keep walking but my feet carried me closer anyway. 

Three slow steps later, my hand lifted toward the handle without me even knowing why. Maybe I wanted to ask if he was finished working, or maybe... I stopped myself before I could finish the thought.

Just as my knuckles were about to touch the wood the handle turned and the door opened.

Xavier stood there with his suit jacket gone, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his forearms, the first few buttons undone at his collar, and a tumbler of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. He looked surprised to see me, and for several long seconds, neither of us moved.

"Julian," his voice was rough with exhaustion.

"I..." I cleared my throat, feeling exposed. "I saw the light."

He didn't answer immediately, setting the glass down on a nearby table before stepping out into the hallway. He wasn't close enough to trap me, but he was close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from him and to smell cedarwood, whiskey, and him.

His grey eyes searched mine intensely. "Stop doing this."

My heart stumbled. "...Doing what?"

"Standing outside my door," he whispered, his gaze drifting briefly to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

 "Looking at me like that."

The words lodged somewhere deep inside my chest as his voice dropped even lower. 

"I'm trying really hard to stay away from you. Don't make it harder."

My breath caught. "What are you talking about?"

For a brief moment, I thought he might answer, but instead he looked away for a second before turning his tired, guarded, and dangerously restrained expression back to me. 

Taking one slow step backwards he disappeared into the study without another word, and the lock clicked softly shut.

I stood alone in the dark hallway staring at the closed door while his words echoed in the silence.

*Don't make it harder.*

Harder... how? Was he talking about living under the same roof or pretending we were one big happy family? Maybe he just wanted space after everything that had happened over the past few weeks, but even as I tried to convince myself that had to be it, I couldn't bring myself to believe my own explanation.

I remained there for another minute, unable to tear my eyes away from the closed door, realizing I didn't understand Xavier anymore and so

mehow I wasn't sure I understood myself either……..