Bound by His Promise
For the first time in weeks, she felt seen — not as the woman everyone pitied, not as the survivor from the news, but simply Rhea.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against hers. “Always.”
Later that afternoon, Rhea visited the office again. The walls still smelled like printer ink and stress, but her desk had been cleared — a new intern now occupied the space she used to own.
Her footsteps echoed down the hall as she entered the conference room. There, on the whiteboard, someone had written the new campaign slogan in bright red marker:
> “Begin Again.”