Morning came with Sunny's tongue on his face. Warm. Persistent. Licking his chin, his cheek, working her way to his ear.
Noah groaned. Pulled her close against his chest. Her fur was sleep-warm, soft as down. He kissed the top of her head—right between her ears where the fur was silkiest. "Morning, sunshine."
She wiggled. Her whole body moved with the effort. Tail thumping against the mattress.
"You gotta go out?" he asked.
She barked once. High-pitched. Urgent.
Noah scooped her up. Her weight was heavier now. Growing every day. He carried her downstairs, feeling her heartbeat quick against his palm.
Got his jacket. Slipped on shoes. Took her to the park.
The morning air was sharp. Cold enough to sting his lungs. A light breeze carried the smell of coffee from somewhere, exhaust from the street, something sweet he couldn't place.
Sunny did her business by a tree. Noah cleaned it up. Walked her around. Her paws made soft padding sounds on the concrete. Her ears bounced with each step.
He picked her up. Held her against his chest. Her nose was cold when she pressed it to his neck.
"It's gonna be a good week," he said. More to himself than to her.
Please.
Back home, he filled her bowl. Watched her eat—the way she attacked the kibble like she hadn't eaten in days, how her ears fell forward into the bowl, how she'd pause every few bites to glance up at him, make sure he was still there.
He scratched behind her ears while she ate. Found that spot that made her back leg kick.
Upstairs, he showered. The water was too hot but he stayed under it. Let it turn his skin pink.
Got dressed. The new suit—black, fitted, sharp lines. He'd bought it last week. First time wearing it. The fabric felt expensive. Smooth.
Sprayed cologne. The new one. Woodsy. Something with cedar and—he couldn't name it. Clean though. Different from what he used to wear.
Sunny was sitting in the doorway. Watching him.
"How do I look?"
She barked. Tail going.
"Thanks. You're my best critic."
He made an omelet. The way they'd taught him in class. Beat the eggs until they were frothy. Butter in the pan. Low heat. Fold, don't scramble.
Cut a small piece for Sunny. She inhaled it. Licked the floor after for crumbs that weren't there.
The meetings today.
"Will Atlas be there?" he asked her.
She tilted her head. Those big brown eyes. Innocent.
"Probably not." He kissed her head. Her fur smelled like her shampoo. Oatmeal and honey.
---
At the office, Clara and Elias were by the window. Talking. Clara's laugh echoed in the space.
Noah walked in. Set his bag down. "Morning."
They turned. Clara's face brightened. "Morning."
Elias nodded. "Hey."
"Why didn't you bring Sunny?" Clara asked. Mock disappointment on her face.
Noah laughed. "My dad would fire both of us."
"Fair." Elias grinned. "But bring her sometimes. It'd be fun. Break up the monotony."
"Maybe I will."
They settled into work. Noah pulled up spreadsheets. Analysis reports. Client data. Numbers filled his screen. Time disappeared into focus.
His phone buzzed once. Twice. He ignored it.
At noon, he stretched. His neck cracked. "You guys wanna get lunch?"
Elias's eyebrows went up. Actually surprised. "That's the first time you've suggested it."
Warmth crept up Noah's neck. "I'm actually hungry today."
"What do you want?" Clara was already standing. Getting her coat.
"How about the steakhouse? The one on 5th?"
Clara and Elias exchanged a glance. Something passed between them.
"Sure," they said together.
---
The steakhouse was dark inside. Leather booths lined the walls. The lighting was low, amber-toned, casting everything in warm shadow. The air was thick with the smell of grilled meat and melted butter, something charred and savory underneath.
They ordered. While they waited, Clara asked about Sunny. Noah told stories—how she'd learned to ring the bell by the door when she needed out, how she'd stolen his sock that morning and paraded around with it, how she slept on her back with all four paws in the air.
Clara laughed. "I need to see this."
"Come over again."
"We will."
They talked about the presentation. The project. Client feedback. Work things. Normal things.
The food came. Noah cut into his steak. Medium rare. Perfect.
Back at the office, they worked until Noah checked his watch. 2:47.
"I need to go. Meeting in ten."
Grabbed his laptop. His notebook. A pen.
Clara studied him. "You look good today. Really good. Show them."
Heat crept up Noah's neck. "I'm just observing."
"Still. You look sharp."
"Thanks." He headed for the door.
---
The meeting floor was quieter than the others. Carpeted. Sound absorbed. Noah's footsteps made no noise.
He walked toward Conference Room B. Heard voices inside. Multiple. Overlapping.
Crowded.
He slowed. Pulled out his phone. Pretended to check something.
Will he be there?
Footsteps behind him. Two sets. He moved to the side.
They passed. One of them glanced at him. Then—
"Hey."
Noah's head came up. Fast.
Atlas.
His back had been turned. Now he was facing Noah. The other person—older, suit, briefcase—kept walking. Didn't stop.
Atlas stood there. Three feet away. Maybe four.
He was wearing grey. Charcoal. The suit fit him perfectly. No tie. Top button undone. His hair was neat but not stiff. Styled but natural. Like he'd run his hands through it.
His shoulders were loose. Dropped. Not the rigid line Noah remembered. His hands weren't buried in his pockets—one held his phone loosely, the other hung at his side, fingers relaxed.
Open.
The corner of his mouth lifted. Not a full smile. Just—warmth. His eyes did something. Softened at the edges.
"Hey," Noah said. His voice came out steady. Surprising himself.
Atlas's gaze stayed on his face. Held there. A beat. Two. Then he shifted his weight slightly—back onto his heels, casual, like they were the only two people in the hallway.
"How are you?" His voice was even. Calm. But something underneath it felt—genuine.
Noah swallowed. His pulse was loud in his ears. "I'm good. You?"
Atlas's mouth curved up a fraction more. "I'm good."
The other person had stopped by the conference room door. Waiting. Watching them.
Atlas glanced over. Back to Noah. Adjusted the phone in his hand. "I should—"
"Yeah. Go."
Atlas nodded once. Turned. Walked toward the conference room.
Noah stood there. Watched him go. The way he moved. Confident. Easy. Like gravity didn't quite apply to him the same way.
Breathe.
He walked into the conference room. Went to the back. Found a seat. Far from the front. Far from—
Atlas was at the head of the table. Talking to someone. His whole face changed when he laughed. Opened up.
Noah set up his laptop. Opened the presentation. Stared at his screen.
The meeting started.
Current client portfolio. Growth projections. Next year's targets. Someone from finance spoke. Then someone from operations.
Noah took notes. Actually listened. His pen moved across paper. Numbers. Bullet points. Questions he'd ask later.
Then Atlas stood.
The room shifted. Everyone's attention moved to him. Automatic.
He didn't have notes. Didn't need them apparently. He talked about expansion. International markets. Strategy. His voice was clear. Confident. He made eye contact with people around the table. Asked questions. Listened to answers.
Then his gaze found Noah. In the back. Just for a second.
Something flickered there. In his expression. Quick. Almost imperceptible. A softness.
Then it was gone. He continued talking.
Noah stared at his laptop. Warmth spread across his face.
Focus.
More people spoke. Presentations. Slides. Data.
Noah glanced at Atlas. Not directly. Just—peripherally.
Atlas leaned back in his chair at one point. Relaxed. One arm draped over the armrest. The other rested on the table. His fingers drummed once—barely—then stilled. Comfortable. Like he belonged exactly where he was.
He's good at this.
Then: Doesn't matter.
The meeting ended. People stood. Gathered things. Talked in clusters.
Noah closed his laptop. Fast. Left the room before the crowd could form.
Walked to the elevator. Fast but not running. Pressed the button. Waited.
The door opened. Empty. Thank god.
He stepped in. Pressed his floor. The doors started to close.
A hand caught them. They opened again.
Atlas.
He stepped in. Moved to the opposite side. Leaned against the wall—shoulder blades flat against it, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. Casual. Relaxed. Like they did this every day.
The doors closed.
Silence.
The elevator hummed. A low mechanical sound. The fluorescent light above flickered once. Steadied. The air smelled faintly metallic. Recycled.
Noah stared at the numbers above the door. Descending. Slow. 42. 41. 40.
His pulse was too fast. Too loud. He could hear it.
Atlas pulled out his phone. His thumb moved across the screen. Then he put it away. Slid it into his pocket.
"There's a new analysis report presentation next week," he said. Not facing Noah. Eyes on the door. But his voice was directed at him. Clear.
Noah turned his head. Just slightly. "I saw it. This morning."
Atlas nodded. Then turned.
Their eyes met.
Atlas's gaze dropped. Just for a second. To Noah's neck. The line of his jaw. His mouth.
Then back up. To his eyes.
The elevator slowed. 38. 37. Noah's floor.
Atlas straightened. Pushed off the wall with his shoulder. "See you around."
His voice was casual. But his mouth did that thing again. The corner lifted. Small. Genuine.
The doors opened.
Noah stepped toward them. Stopped. Turned back.
"Yeah. See you."
Atlas's eyes held his. Steady. Something passed between them—something heavy, charged, unsaid.
The doors closed.
Noah stood there. In the hallway. Staring at the closed elevator doors.
His heart was hammering. His hands felt cold.
What was that?
He walked to the bathroom. Fast. Pushed open the door. Went to the sink.
Stared at himself in the mirror.
His face was flushed. His pupils were huge.
"He didn't even acknowledge me in public before," he said. To his reflection. Quiet.
But he did today. In front of someone. He smiled. He asked how I was. He—
"Don't." His voice was firm. "Don't read into it. Don't—"
He turned on the water. Cold. Splashed his face. Once. Twice.
But warmth still crept up his neck.
His phone rang. Loud in the silence.
Lydia.
He answered. "Hey."
"I'm coming to your office! We'll go home together. I'm like ten minutes away."
"Okay."
"See you soon!"
She hung up.
Right. Lydia's coming.
He'd completely forgotten.
Dried his face. Went back to the office.
Clara's eyes narrowed the second he walked in. "How was the meeting?"
"Normal." But even he heard how his voice sounded. Off.
Clara's mouth curved. "Something happened."
"Nothing happened."
"You're blushing."
"I'm not—" He stopped. Touched his face. It was warm. "What would happen at a meeting?"
Elias glanced up from his laptop. A small smile on his face.
Clara leaned forward. Elbows on her desk. "Maybe someone caught your eye."
"No one caught my eye." But his foot started bouncing. Under the desk. Automatic.
Elias saw. His smile grew. "I'm sure you're right."
Noah sat. Opened his laptop. Stared at the screen. Didn't see anything.
Atlas's eyes. The way he looked at me. The way he said "see you around." The way his voice sounded. Calm. Warm. Like—
He shook his head. Forced himself to focus.
Opened the presentation file for next week. Started working.
Time passed. Slow. Then fast. He lost track.
The door opened. Lydia burst in.
"Hey!" Loud. Bright.
She walked straight to Noah. Threw her arms around him. Kissed his cheek.
"Lydia. We're at work." His voice was flat. Embarrassed.
She ignored him. Turned to Clara and Elias. "Hi! I'm Lydia. Noah's sister."
They stood. Introduced themselves. Shook hands. Made small talk.
Five minutes later, they all left together.
Outside, Noah and Lydia said goodbye to Clara and Elias. Hugged. Promised to see them tomorrow.
Got in a cab.
"Why don't you drive?" Lydia asked. "You have a car."
"Cabs are easier in the morning. Less stress."
She studied him. Then hugged his arm. "Did you get in an accident or something?"
"No."
"Okay." She didn't believe him.
The cab moved through traffic. Lydia talked. About school. Her friends. Some drama with someone Noah didn't know.
He nodded. Made sounds of agreement. But he wasn't listening.
Atlas. The way he smiled. The way he looked at me in the elevator. His eyes on my mouth. Just for a second. Then back up. The way he said "see you around." Like he meant it. Like—
Stop. He's just being professional. That's all.
But his chest felt tight. Warm.
---
At home, Sunny met them at the door. Jumped. Barked. Her tail a blur.
Lydia screamed. "OH MY GOD!"
Dropped everything. Scooped Sunny up. Sunny licked her face. Her neck. Her ears. Everywhere.
"Put your stuff away first," Noah said. "Then you can play with her."
Lydia ignored him completely. Sat on the floor. Let Sunny climb all over her.
Noah shook his head. Went to his room. Changed into sweats. A t-shirt.
Came back out. "I'm taking her to the park. She needs to go out."
"I'm coming!" Lydia jumped up. Still holding Sunny.
They grabbed their jackets. Lydia pulled on hers—oversized, navy blue. Noah zipped his.
Walked to the park. The evening air was cooler now. The sun was low. Gold and orange.
Sunny did her business. They walked. Lydia filmed them on her phone. Noah playing with Sunny. Throwing her toy. Sunny bringing it back.
Back home, they cooked together. Pasta. Salad. Garlic bread.
At dinner, Sunny was in Lydia's lap. Content. Half asleep.
They ate in comfortable silence for a while.
Then Lydia set down her fork. Carefully. "Why isn't Atlas here?"
Noah kept eating. Pretended he didn't hear.
"Noah." Her voice was firm. "Why isn't Atlas here?"
He set down his fork. Met her eyes. "We broke up. It's over."
Lydia's eyes went wide. "What? When? How?"
"Why do you need to know?"
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Noah picked up his fork again. "It doesn't matter when or how. It's over."
"I'm gonna call him. Ask him what happened."
Noah's fork clattered to his plate. The sound echoed in the quiet room.
He didn't move. Just sat there. His gaze on Lydia. Steady. Calm. But something in his eyes—something sharp, something final—made her pause.
"Don't call Atlas." His voice was quiet. Too quiet. Controlled.
Lydia's hand withdrew from her phone. Slowly. She pulled it back into her lap. Her shoulders drew in slightly.
"Okay," she said. Soft. "I won't."
Silence. Heavy. Thick.
"Three weeks," Noah said. His voice was softer now. "It's been three weeks. And it—it needed to end."
He picked up his fork. Pushed food around his plate.
"You guys loved each other though," Lydia said. Careful.
Noah met her eyes. Held them. "I loved him."
"No. He loved you too. I saw it."
"Can we—" His voice cracked. Just slightly. He cleared his throat. "Can we drop it? It's over." He tried to smile. His mouth moved. But it didn't reach his eyes.
Lydia studied him. Long. Then nodded. "Okay."
She petted Sunny. Long strokes down her back.
Noah stood. Fast. His chair scraped against the floor.
Walked to the kitchen. Leaned against the counter. His hands pressed flat against the surface. He took a breath. Deep. Let it out slow.
I loved him. Past tense. It's over.
But his hands trembled slightly.
He opened the fridge. Got the dessert Clara had brought. Plated it. Brought it to Lydia.
"You have to try this." His voice was steady again. He smiled. Real this time.
Lydia set Sunny down. Stood. Hugged him. Tight.
"I love you," she said into his shoulder.
"Love you too."
She pulled back. He reminded her—firmly—never to give Sunny sweets. Ever.
They cleaned up together. Washed dishes. Put away leftovers.
Noah settled on the couch with his laptop. The project file. Work. Distraction.
Sunny climbed onto him. Curled up on his chest. Her weight was warm. Solid. Real.
Lydia took photos. "You guys are so cute."
Posted them on Instagram. Tagged Noah.
Later, Noah saw them. "Stop posting my pictures."
Lydia grinned. "Never. You're adorable."
He shook his head. Went back to work.
Before bed, he stood. "I'm taking Sunny out."
"I'm coming."
They grabbed their jackets again. Walked. The night was clear. Stars visible despite the city lights.
Lydia filmed them playing. Posted it. Tagged Noah again.
Noah saw. "Seriously. Stop."
She laughed. "You're perfect together. The world needs to see."
Back home, Noah said goodnight. Went to his room.
Lydia was sleeping with Sunny tonight. So he was alone.
He lay in bed. Stared at the ceiling.
Atlas. The way he looked at me. Calm. Warm. The way he smiled. The way his eyes—
He's playing a game. Being polite. That's all.
He said it out loud. "That's all it is."
But his chest felt warm.
He closed his eyes.
Let sleep take him.