The misunderstanding began with timing.
And silence.
Cynthia arrived at work the next morning feeling lighter than she expected. The date with Daniel had been good—easy, calm, uncomplicated. No pressure. No confusion.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She stepped into the office just as Daniel approached, coffee in hand, smiling.
"Morning," he said. "I was hoping I'd catch you."
She smiled back. "Morning."
Alexander walked out of his office at that exact moment.
He stopped when he saw them.
Daniel continued, unaware—or perhaps not. "I was thinking… maybe dinner again this weekend? There's a new place by the river."
Cynthia hesitated—not long, just enough to think.
"That sounds nice," she said.
Alexander heard everything.
Every word landed wrong.
He didn't interrupt. Didn't react. He simply turned and walked back into his office, the glass door closing quietly behind him.
Too quietly.
Inside, Alexander stood still, hands resting on his desk.
So it was already again.
He told himself it shouldn't matter. He had no claim. No right to feel anything at all.
But something sharp pressed against his chest anyway.
He picked up a file and stared at it without reading.
Later that afternoon, Cynthia passed by his office.
She slowed.
He hadn't looked at her once all day.
That was new.
She paused at the doorway. "Alexander?"
"Yes?" he said without looking up.
"Are you… busy?"
"Always," he replied calmly.
Too calmly.
She frowned. "I just wanted to ask about the report."
"It's fine," he said. "Handled."
That was it.
No eye contact. No warmth.
She stood there for a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright."
She walked away, confusion settling in.
That evening, the house felt tense.
Sarah noticed immediately.
Alexander barely spoke during dinner. His focus was distant, his answers short.
"Is something wrong?" Sarah asked gently.
"No," he replied.
She didn't believe him—but she didn't press.
Later, as she carried folded laundry down the hallway, she heard voices near the living room.
Alexander was on the phone.
"I said I'm fine," he said sharply. "She's free to do whatever she wants."
Pause.
"No. It doesn't concern me."
Sarah slowed her steps.
Another pause.
"Just leave me"
Silence followed.
Then Alexander ended the call.
Sarah stood still, heart tightening.
She didn't know who she was.
But she felt the weight of the words.
The next day, everything went wrong.
Cynthia walked into the break room to find Evans there, placing files on the counter. It was unusual to see him at the office, but not impossible—she occasionally delivered documents.
"Hi," Cynthia said politely.
Evan smiled faintly. "Hello."
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then Cynthia spoke, without thinking. "Alexander seems… off lately."
Evan's hands paused.
"Yes," He said quietly. "He does."
Cynthia sighed. "I hope I didn't do something wrong."
Sarah looked up. "Wrong?"
"I mean—" Cynthia stopped herself, unsure why she was explaining. "Things feel tense."
Evan studied her carefully. Then said, softly but clearly, "Some tensions are created by choices."
The words landed heavier than intended.
Cynthia stiffened. "Are you saying—"
"I'm saying," Evan interrupted gently, "that people notice when hearts are involved."
Cynthia stared at her. "Hearts?"
Evan realized too late that she had said too much.
"I should go," He said quickly, gathering his things.He left before Cynthia could respond.
Across the office, Alexander had seen them talking.
He misread it instantly.
He saw Cynthia lean in. Saw Evan's expression. Saw Cynthia's face harden.
His jaw tightened.
By the time Cynthia reached him, he was already closed off.
"Alexander," she said, voice strained. "Can we talk?"
"About what?" he asked coolly.
She blinked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. "Congratulations, by the way."
Her heart skipped. "On what?"
"Your plans," he replied. "Daniel seems… committed."
Her confusion turned into frustration. "Why are you acting like this?"
He finally looked at her.
"Because it's clear," he said evenly. "You've made your choice."
"That's not—" she stopped herself. "You don't get to decide that for me."
He laughed once, humorless. "I'm not deciding anything."
"Yes, you are," she said. "You're assuming."
"Am I?" he asked. "You accepted his invitation. Again."
She took a breath. "Yes. I did."
"Then what exactly is the problem?" he asked.
She stared at him.
That was the problem.
She turned away. "Nothing. You're right."
She walked off before he could say anything else.
That night, all two of them lay awake.
Cynthia replayed the conversation, anger mixing with doubt.
Alexander sat in the dark, realizing too late that pride had spoken louder than truth.
No one had lied.
No one had confessed.
And yet—
Everything was wrong.