I sat at my desk, staring at the spreadsheet on my screen. The numbers lined up perfectly, each formula checked and cross-checked. There wasn't a single error. And yet, here I was—twenty minutes in—trying to find something that wasn't there.

The worst part? I knew why.

I leaned back and rubbed my eyes, groaning under my breath. The sound slipped out before I could stop it.

From the corner of my vision, I saw Derrick swivel in his chair, his eyebrows raised. "Dude. What was that?"

I blinked at him, then gave a half-shrug. "Long story."

He grinned knowingly, tilting his head toward the far end of the room where Tasha sat at her desk, head bent over her monitor, completely absorbed in whatever she was doing. Or at least, she looked that way.

"Ah," Derrick said with a low whistle. "I thought you were her favorite."

I pressed my lips into a line and turned back to my screen. "Can we not… talk about it?"

Derrick leaned back, folding his arms, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, man. Your funeral."

Silence stretched for a moment, the faint clicking of keyboards and the hum of the office AC filling the air. I almost thought he'd dropped it, but of course, Derrick wasn't the type to let things go that easily.

"So," he said, drawing the word out, "what's the problem with the file?"

I didn't look away from my screen. "Nothing."

Derrick raised an eyebrow. "Nothing?"

I finally turned, meeting his skeptical stare. "Yeah. Nothing. It's fine."

He leaned closer, voice dropping so no one else could hear. "Then why'd she send it back?"

I hesitated. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, then curled into fists. "I'll... figure it out myself."

Derrick leaned back again, the smile never leaving his face. "Sure you will."

I shot him a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged casually, like this was all just a joke to him. "Nothing. Just—you've had that same file open for twenty minutes, man. If you don't find something soon, people are gonna start thinking you forgot how to use Excel."

I almost laughed, but it came out more like a sigh. "Funny."

He chuckled. "Cheer up. It happens to the best of us."

I gave a dry, "Yeah," before facing the screen again. The spreadsheet numbers blurred slightly, not from errors but from the tension behind my eyes.

I stole one more glance across the office.

Tasha sat at her desk, perfectly composed, her posture straight, eyes glued to her work. Not a flicker of acknowledgment. Not a glance in my direction. Not even the slightest sign that she knew what she'd done—sending me back something she had already approved, forcing me to sit here and second-guess myself.

And maybe that was the point.

I groaned again, quieter this time, and focused back on the numbers.

This wasn't about the file. Not anymore.

It was about her.

And she wasn't even pretending otherwise.

---

Throughout the day, I kept coming back to that file. Not because it needed work—God, no—but because it was the only thing in the office staring me down, mocking me with its emptiness. I'd finished everything else on my desk—small reports, quick checks, numbers that actually had weight—but that one file sat there, taunting me.

And every time I glanced at it, I thought of her.

Tasha hadn't said another word to me since this morning, hadn't even looked my way. She didn't need to. The silence alone was louder than anything she could've thrown at me.

But what made it worse was… Val.

By lunch, I'd already tried calling her four times. The line rang out each time before cutting to this user is unreachable. Later in the afternoon, it didn't even ring—just switched off. Twice.

Each time, the pit in my stomach grew heavier. My thoughts kept threatening to spiral out of control. Was she okay? Was she sick? Did something happen at her school? Was she…?

I forced myself to stop. No. I wasn't going down that path. She was busy, that was all. She had to be. She was always drowning in responsibilities, and her schedule was probably a mess. I repeated that to myself like a mantra.

She's busy. She must be.

Still, by the time the clock crawled toward closing hours, I was on edge. And that was when I heard it.

"Kai."

My head snapped up. My name. She said my name this time.

I froze in place, blinking as if I'd misheard. But then I saw her, sitting at her desk with her usual calm expression. She hadn't looked up from her monitor.

Across from me, Derrick arched an eyebrow, that familiar grin tugging at his mouth. "Well, well," he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. "What's going on today?"

I ignored him and stood, smoothing the front of my shirt as I walked over to Tasha's desk.

She didn't glance at me, just kept typing. "The folder."

I hesitated. "I… I'm not done yet."

Her fingers stilled. Then, in a flat, even tone, she said, "I didn't ask if you were, did I?"

The words cut sharper than anything else she'd thrown at me all day. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond.

Then she stopped typing and finally looked up. Her eyes locked on mine—steady, unblinking. Not cold, not angry. Just… unwavering.

I swallowed and gave a small nod. "Right."

I turned and walked back to my desk. Picked up the file that had been sitting there uselessly all day. My hands felt heavier than they should as I carried it back and placed it on her desk.

She took it without a glance, dropped it onto a neat pile of other folders.

I lingered, waiting for something. A comment. A jab. Some kind of closing remark. But instead, she just waved a hand dismissively. "That will be all."

I froze again, the words echoing in my head. That will be all.

When I didn't move, she finally tilted her head up at me. No smug grin. No flicker of triumph. Her face was blank, calm, unreadable. Like I hadn't just wasted a day staring at a perfect file.

I nodded, turned, and walked back.

Derrick leaned back in his chair, waiting. "So?"

I dropped into my seat. "I have no idea, man."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're in deep, bro." Then he turned back to his work, as if that explained everything.

I stared at my screen again, but my thoughts weren't on the numbers. It was obvious what she'd just done.

This wasn't about the file. This was about sending me a message. About control. About reminding me that she could make my day hell if she wanted. And maybe, just maybe, that she wasn't as unaffected by last week as she'd like me to believe.

By the time the clock hit five-thirty, most of the office was already clearing out. Laughter, chairs scraping, the sound of bags zipping shut. I closed my laptop, slid it into my briefcase, and stacked the last of my papers neatly.

I was halfway to the door when her voice cut through the noise again.

"Kai. A minute."

My steps faltered. Slowly, I turned my head. She was still at her desk, shutting her computer down, gathering her things.

I glanced at Derrick. He gave me a shrug and a grin. "See you tomorrow, buddy. Don't die on me."

I managed a chuckle and waved him off before walking over.

She moved methodically—mouse, keyboard, files stacked into perfect alignment. Only when everything was in place did she finally look up. By then, the office was quiet, emptied out, just the two of us.

Her eyes lingered on mine a little too long before she spoke. "Was I… too harsh?"

The question caught me completely off guard. I blinked at her, almost certain I'd misheard.

She nodded, gaze dropping to her desk. Her voice was softer now. "I was."

Then she looked back up, expression steady. "Sorry."

I had no reply for that. Nothing. Because this wasn't what I expected. Not in the slightest.

She stood, holding my gaze. And then, in a tone I'd never heard from her before—soft, almost whiny—she said, "But you started it first. You think I don't know why your friend, or brother, or whatever he is, came by?"

My chest tightened. I said nothing. Anything I said here could and would be used against me. Literally.

She sighed, shoulders dropping. "I didn't mean to be… cruel. It's just that…" She bit her lip, forcing the words out. "I felt hurt. Kinda."

Her eyes found mine again. Then slowly, they drifted down—to my ring.

The silence stretched.

"Say something," she whispered.

I exhaled, long and heavy. "I don't… really have anything to say."

She held my gaze for another beat, then nodded.

I cleared my throat, shifting the briefcase in my hand. "Uhm… good night, Tasha."

"Night," she said quietly.

I turned before she could find another reason to keep me there. My steps were quick, almost hurried, as I left the building.

The drive back was worse than the whole day. My thoughts should've been circling around her—around whatever that was, that strange mix of apology and accusation. But they weren't.

They were with Val.

She hadn't called. I tried again at a red light, and this time the line actually rang. My grip on the wheel tightened. One ring. Two. Three. No answer. By the fourth, the tension in my chest felt unbearable, like every second of silence was squeezing the air out of me. Every possible explanation that ran through my head was negative, and no matter how many times I told myself she was just busy, it didn't help.

By the time I pulled into my street, my hands were gripping the wheel too tightly.

And then I saw it.

An Aston Martin. Parked right outside my place.

My foot slammed the brake harder than necessary. My heart kicked against my ribs. No. No, it couldn't be.

I got out, leaving my briefcase forgotten on the passenger seat. My steps were quick, almost stumbling as I rushed to the door.

Unlocked.

My stomach dropped.

I pushed it open, and the first thing that hit me was the smell—rich, warm, unmistakably home-cooked.

I stepped inside, slow now, almost afraid of what I'd find. The sound of something sizzling drifted from the kitchen. And then—humming.

I turned the corner.

And there she was.

Val.

She was standing at my stove, back to me, sleeves rolled up as she worked the pan. Her hair was tied up, a loose strand falling against her neck. She was humming softly, something light, casual—like she'd never left. I couldn't see her face yet, but just the sight of her there, in my kitchen, made my chest tighten in a way no words could touch.

And just like that—every insecurity, every doubt, every spiral of panic I'd been caught in all day vanished. Gone. Like they'd never even been there.

---

To be continued...

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