The morning light always had a way of exposing the things I tried to hide.
My reflection in the mirror looked tired—lip gloss smudged, eyes slightly swollen from a night of restless sleep. I'd replayed yesterday in my head a hundred times. The meeting, the way his voice had sounded when he said I'd changed. The way my heart had stuttered like it was trying to remember something it shouldn't.
I shouldn't have felt anything. It was just work. Just a conversation. Just… Adrian.
But "just" didn't feel simple anymore.
I buttoned my shirt, tied my hair, and forced myself to look composed. The office didn't care how tangled my emotions were. Numbers didn't care. Reports didn't care. And Daniel—sweet, steady Daniel—would notice if I didn't pull myself together.
By the time I reached the office, the air was buzzing with energy. The pitch had gone well; everyone was waiting for the client's response. Adrian's car was already parked out front—of course it was. He was always early. Always ready.
I inhaled sharply and stepped inside.
"Morning, Elena," Daniel's voice greeted me from behind. I turned to see him walking toward me, coffee in hand, smile as warm as sunlight. "You okay? You look… tired."
I laughed softly. "Rough night. Just couldn't sleep."
He studied me for a second, then nodded. "The deal's almost sealed. Once this is over, you're taking a break. I'll make sure of it."
"Daniel, you don't have to—"
"I know," he interrupted gently. "But I want to."
Something in his tone made me pause. There was care there, yes—but also something deeper, something that made me want to step back and breathe.
Before I could reply, the elevator opened, and Adrian stepped out. Crisp suit, unreadable expression. His gaze flickered toward us briefly before he walked past, phone pressed to his ear. But that one glance was enough to send my pulse into chaos.
Daniel noticed. I knew he did. His eyes followed Adrian, then slowly returned to me.
"Everything okay between you two?" he asked.
"Of course," I lied quickly. "Why wouldn't it be?"
He didn't answer. He didn't have to.
Later that afternoon, we gathered in the conference room again for a final review before the client call. The air was thick, the kind of tension no one could name but everyone felt. Adrian spoke in his usual calm tone, discussing projections, but I could feel his attention on me like static in the air.
When I offered a suggestion, his gaze lifted briefly—something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. Approval? Guilt? I couldn't tell.
After the meeting, he stopped me in the hallway. "Elena."
I turned, trying to sound casual. "Yes?"
He looked at me for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "You did well today."
"Thank you," I said, though my voice came out softer than I intended.
He hesitated, then added, "Try to rest. You look… distracted."
That word lingered between us like an unspoken secret. He knew why I was distracted.
And before I could respond, Daniel appeared from the corridor, holding a file. "Elena, are you ready for the final prep?"
Adrian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly before he turned and walked away.
I stood there between them—Daniel's easy warmth on one side, Adrian's cold fire on the other—and felt the weight of something I wasn't ready to name.
By the end of the day, the client called. The deal was ours. Everyone cheered, but the noise felt distant, like I was underwater.
Daniel hugged me, genuine and proud. "You did it," he said softly.
But across the room, Adrian's eyes met mine for just a heartbeat—and I knew, somehow, that nothing about this victory would make things easier.