The applause still rang in my ears long after Lucien D’Aragon had walked out of the atrium. I’d gone back to my desk, packed my things with deliberate calm, and told myself it was only a staff meeting. People met their CEOs every day. Nothing world-altering about it. Except my hands had shaken when I zipped my bag shut. And Maya had followed me out the door, still babbling about his suit, his voice, his eyes, like she’d just witnessed a miracle. By the time I left the office and slipped into the chill of the evening, the city lights already sparking awake, I had almost convinced myself it wasn’t worth replaying in my head. Almost. But the problem with convincing yourself something doesn’t matter is that you have to keep repeating it. Over and over, like a bad mantra. And by the time I stepped into the apartment, I was exhausted from my own denial. --- The living room greeted me with its usual chaos: Rhea sprawled sideways on the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, scrol
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