Zane's withdrawal was not abrupt enough to name, and that was the problem. He did not announce it or frame it as space or strategy, and there was no conversation that defined what he was doing. Instead, it arrived quietly and settled into their daily rhythm as though it had always belonged there. He simply stopped participating in anything that belonged to Willow's company, and the absence was so precise it took her longer than it should have to recognize it as intentional.
He no longer asked how calls went or whether meetings had shifted, and he did not glance at drafts left open on the table or comment on documents she reviewed late into the evening. When Willow mentioned timelines or upcoming decisions, he acknowledged them politely and moved on, his attention returning to his own work with deliberate neutrality. The shift was subtle enough to feel civil, almost considerate, which made it harder to confront. It felt professional. It felt respectful. It felt like absence.
