MasukThree years later.The house no longer echoed. It breathed. Soft sounds lived in it now—small feet against polished floors, the uneven rhythm of laughter spilling from room to room, the faint clatter of something being dragged where it didn’t belong. Life, uncontained, moving through spaces that had once been too quiet. Mia stood at the kitchen counter, one hand resting against the edge while the other steadied a cup she hadn’t taken a sip from. “Careful—careful—” A burst of giggles cut her off. Too late. Something already toppled. She closed her eyes briefly, her shoulders lifting with a quiet inhale before she turned. Chris stood in the middle of the living room, one hand hovering uselessly in the air as if he could rewind the last two seconds if he just reached far enough. At his feet, wooden blocks lay scattered in all directions. Between them, two small bodies looked entirely pleased with the chaos they’d created. “That was not careful,” Mia said, though the edge never q
Five months later.The morning arrived quietly. Just a slow unfolding of light through the curtains, pale and soft, settling over everything it touched. Mia sat at the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap, fingers loosely intertwined. The room carried the faint scent of pressed fabric and something floral—her grandmother’s doing, no doubt. The dress hung near the window, suspended as if it didn’t quite belong to the world yet. She hadn’t touched it. Not since last night. A knock came, gentle. “Iris?” Grandma Morris’s voice filtered through. Mia turned her head slightly. “I’m awake.” The door opened, carefully, like even the hinges understood what today meant. Grandma Morris stepped in first, her gaze finding Mia immediately, softening in a way that made something tighten behind Mia’s ribs. Grandpa Morris lingered just behind her, one hand resting against the doorframe before he stepped fully inside. For a moment, no one spoke. They just… looked at her. Mia let out a
into house was still awake when Mia pushed the door open. That, more than anything, made her pause. The lights in the living room spilled into the hallway in a warm, steady glow. The quiet wasn’t the usual end-of-day quiet either. Mia stepped inside slowly, easing the door shut behind her. Her heels clicked softly against the floor, the sound carrying further than it should have. “Grandma?” she called, her voice low, uncertain. No immediate answer. She took a few more steps forward, shrugging her bag higher on her shoulder, her fingers already loosening around the strap. Then she saw them. Both of them were seated side by side on the couch. Waiting for her. Grandma Morris turned first, her face lighting up in a way that made Mia’s steps falter. “Finally,” she said, her tone warm, threaded with something that felt almost like anticipation. “We were beginning to think you’d sleep at the office tonight.” Mia let out a small breath, though her brows pulled together
Allen sat at his desk, the cursor blinking at him like it expected something he hadn’t yet decided to give. The document on his screen was open. Numbers aligned. Notes structured. Everything where it should be. His pen rested between his fingers, unmoving. The hum of the office drifted in from beyond the glass—phones ringing, low conversations threading through the corridors, footsteps passing in steady intervals. Work happening. He shifted slightly in his chair, drawing in a slow breath, then letting it out through his nose. Focus. The word settled, firm. He lowered his gaze back to the screen, scanning the figures again. Adjusting one. Cross-checking another. It held for a while. The memory slipped in without permission. He stilled. The elevator scene replayed in his head. The way her name had left his mouth before he could catch it. The way it had changed the air between them. Mr. Allen. The correction had been gentle. His grip on the pen tightened, the plastic pressing
Morning came with weight. Not the kind that pressed from the outside, but the sort that settled deep in her limbs, as though sleep had only skimmed the surface of her body and left everything underneath untouched. Mia lay still for a moment longer than she should have. The ceiling above her held steady, pale and indifferent, while her thoughts moved slower than usual—thick, reluctant, as if even they needed convincing to begin the day. A soft sound broke through. One of the twins was shifting. A small, restless whimper followed. Mia turned her head slightly, her gaze softening almost immediately. “Hey…” she murmured, her voice low, still rough at the edges. She pushed herself up, the movement slow, her body resisting before finally giving in. The floor met her feet, cool and grounding, and she walked over, lifting the baby with practiced ease. “Good morning,” she whispered, brushing her lips against soft skin. Noah stirred too, small hands stretching, searching. Mia exhaled
The room couldn’t hold him. Allen moved from one end to the other, steps quick, uneven, like his body hadn’t quite decided what to do with the energy building under his skin. The phone pressed against his ear, then pulled away, then back again as if that might change the outcome. He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again. “Come on, Zoe…” he muttered under his breath. The call ended. He stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering, then tapped again. He let out a breath that came out half a laugh, half frustration. “She’s probably busy,” he said to the empty room, as someone had asked. The thought settled just enough to keep him from dialing a third time. He dropped the phone onto the bed, but didn’t move far from it—just in case. Just in case it lit up. For a moment, he stood there, staring at nothing in particular, the reality of it pressing in again, fresh and disorienting. The job. Morris Group. His chest tightened—not painfully, but enough to mak
The door opened without ceremony. Chris felt it before he saw him—the subtle shift in the room, the way Allen straightened just a little, the way power rearranged itself. Footsteps. Measured and familiar. Derek walked in. “Good day, sir,” Derek said, voice even, professional. Allen incl
The door closed behind Chris with a muted click.Allen Hale didn’t look up immediately.He stood by the window instead, back turned, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and clipped. The city stretched behind him—London steel and glass, orderly and ruthless. Hale Tower from the inside.Chris waited.
The contracts smelled like ink and cold coffee.Chris noticed it before anything else—the faint chemical bite on his fingers as he turned another page, the way the paper rasped softly against itself. London was grey outside the windows. Not raining, not bright. That in-between light that made every
The office smelled like cold coffee and rain-damp wool.Chris noticed it first—the way the scent clung to the air, stale and unfinished, like a conversation that had been interrupted and never properly ended. London rain had followed them in on their coats, soaking into the carpet near the door. De







