LOGINIt has been three weeks.
Three weeks since everything went to hell, and I could barely remember how I’d made it through them. Work has swallowed me whole, meetings, reports, numbers, faces that I didn't care to remember. All of that just blurred into one huge stretch of nothingness.I hadn't thought of him much. Or at least that’s what I try to tell myself.But there would be silence between tasks, those rare moments where I could take a break, and my thoughts would wander and stray. I would find myself glancing at the clock, wondering what he was doing, if he had eaten, if he was getting enough sleep, if he still hated me, if the wounds I had inflicted on him were still fresh, if he regretted showing me that look of hurt that day.And every time I thought of him, the gap in my chest would widen and I would grow more hollow.I have lost him, and I have also lost Gianna. Just when I had her as my friend, I lost her. She took what happSADEI didn’t even remember moving.One second, I was standing there staring at him on his knees with that small box in his hands, and the next second, my chest cracked open, and everything poured out at once, the fear, the waiting, the doubt, the wanting, all of it crashing together so hard that the sound tore out of me before I could stop it.“Yes!” I screamed, my voice breaking as it echoed around the room, my hands flying to my mouth as tears rushed out without warning. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh my God, yes.”He didn’t even let me finish before he was on his feet, the ring box forgotten somewhere behind us as he crossed the space in two steps and grabbed my face in his hands, kissing me like he’d been holding that breath for years, like this was the answer to every unfinished sentence between us.I laughed and cried into his mouth at the same time, my hands shaking as I clung to him, my whole body buzzing, my knees weak, my heart racing so fast it felt unreal. “You scared me,” I said bet
SADE The sun was really bright and it came in through the curtains while I stood at the kitchen counter stirring coffee I’d already forgotten about, my mind somewhere else entirely even though Kross was behind me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, his hand settling on my waist, a little space away from myself and yet he never wandered past, his touch was so gentle, and familiar in a way that still caught me off guard sometimes.Everything between us worked, maybe too well, which was what made the unease I felt more complicated to explain even to myself, because we lived here together, went to work together and worked side by side, argued about deadlines and shipping delays, laughed over burnt toast and dry jokes, shared kisses that left me breathless and nights that I couldn’t out into words. Yet, somehow there was still this thin line I kept bumping into, this unspoken thing neither of us named out loud.I met Lina later that day, and she didn’t even wait for me
SADE Kross watched me from the foot of the bed now. He was still fully dressed in that black button-down that hugged his shoulders just right, sleeves rolled to his elbows, eyes dark and patient but hungry. He didn’t move yet, just let me have this moment, let me peel the first button open while his gaze stayed glued to every inch of skin I revealed. The fabric parted slowly, and I saw his jaw tighten, saw the way his fingers flexed like he was fighting not to reach for me too fast.I popped the second button, then the third, letting the shirt fall open just enough that the lace of my bra peeked out, black against my skin, and I heard him exhale sharply through his nose.“Baby…” he said, voice low and rough. “You’re killing me.”I smiled, small and teasing, because I loved it when he sounded like that, like he was barely holding it together. “Then come help me,” I whispered, fingers pausing on the last two buttons.He was across the room in two strides, big hands gentle but sure as
I didn’t make it far.I barely reached the gate before I heard Kross shout my name again, sharp and urgent, breaking through the noise in my head like it always did when it came from him. I kept walking anyway because stopping felt like weakness, and I had spent too many years teaching myself how not to stop for him.“Sade.”I clenched my jaw and kept moving, my heels clicking too loud against the pavement, my chest tight, my vision blurry, and then his hand wrapped around my wrist, not hard, not forcing, just enough to say don’t go, just enough to remind me that he still knew how to stop me without hurting me.“Let me go,” I said, my voice shaking even though I hated that it did.“No,” he said, breathless, like he’d been running, as the thought of losing me again scared him more than his pride ever could. “You don’t get to walk away like that, not after everything you said, not after that kiss.”I turned on him then, anger flaring hot and fast, my eyes burning as I looked at his face
SADE I sat in my office that day finally thinking about how the partnership between Kross and I was over, the last signatures inked, the previous documents signed, and for a moment I just sat back in my chair, staring at the paperwork like if I blinked long enough, it might all disappear, like the months of tension, negotiations, late nights, and stolen glances never happened, but of course, it didn’t, it was all still there, thick in my chest, heavy and impossible. The first day of the three-day arrangement finally came with coffee and cake, his choice, carefully arranged on the table like he was trying to soften the edges of whatever this was between us. And I watched him set it down, his fingers brushing the table almost absentmindedly, the tension in his jaw as if every smile he gave cost him something. I couldn’t help but notice that even now, after the partnership ended, he still carried the weight of his own emotions like a shadow I could feel pressing close.We didn’t talk
SADE A week after Kross and I had that brief moment, nothing had settled, not inside me and not around us either, and I kept waiting for the tension to either break or burn itself out, but nothing happened. It just stayed, quiet and heavy, the kind of pressure that doesn’t scream but makes your shoulders ache from carrying it too long.He was still here. Still showing up every other day, still finding reasons that sounded like business but felt personal, no matter how carefully he dressed them up, and I hated myself for noticing the patterns because noticing meant caring and caring meant vulnerability, something I had worked very hard to outgrow.Monday was the first time I knew he was starting to cross the line.He walked into a board review he had no reason to attend anymore, and the room shifted the moment he sat down, jacket off, sleeves rolled, posture relaxed, as if he had never left, as if he still belonged at that table.I didn’t stop the presentation.I didn’t acknowledge h







