Avery tried to convince herself that today would feel different.

Not easier—just different. After yesterday’s unraveling mix of whispers, Alexander’s attention, and the note she still hadn’t dared reread, she thought she had exhausted every possible emotion.

She was wrong.

She stepped into Reed Financial with a tight breath she hoped no one could see. The morning crowd moved briskly around her, some heading toward elevators, others toward the café kiosk downstairs. Everything looked normal. Everything sounded normal.

But her chest didn’t feel normal.

When she reached the fourteenth floor, she slowed.

The lunch box was there again.

Same placement. Same precision. Same silent presence that had become something she no longer knew how to define.

This time, there was no note—but the absence of one didn’t make her feel any less exposed. If anything, it was the memory of yesterday’s that made her stomach twist.

She sat down gently, afraid the chair might scrape too loudly.

Someone a few desks away murmured, “Right on time again.”

Avery pretended she didn’t hear it.

Before she could settle, her inbox pinged.

—from: A.Reed  

subject: 10:30  

body: Bring the Q3 follow-up.

Just instructions. Clean. Professional. Except her heartbeat reacted like he’d written something far more personal.

She forced herself to breathe and started preparing the follow-up. At least numbers made sense. At least formulas didn’t assume things about her.

At 9:20, Riley finally texted.

—HELLO? Are you alive? I’m ready to break into your office if needed.  

Avery sighed and typed: I’m fine. Just tired.  

Riley: —Tired from WHAT?? From your boss writing you notes???  

Avery covered her face. She typed only: Stop.

A minute later:  

—I’ll stop when you stop pretending you don’t know what’s happening.

Avery put her phone face down.

She couldn’t deal with that—not when she wasn’t even sure what she herself believed.

By 10:20, she headed toward the elevator with the printed Q3 follow-up in hand. Her steps were steadier than yesterday but her nerves weren’t.

Two people from HR stepped aside as she passed, and one whispered:

“She goes up so often.”

“It’s practically daily now.”

Avery pressed the elevator button harder than necessary.

When she stepped out on the thirty-ninth floor, the shift in atmosphere hit instantly. Quiet. Focused. Controlled.

She knocked lightly on the analysis room door.

“Come in,” Alexander said.

She opened it, stepping into the familiar cool air of the room.

He was at the display again, but he turned the moment she entered—always too quickly, as if he’d been waiting.

“Avery.”

Just her name, but her whole body reacted.

“I brought the Q3 follow-up,” she said.

“Good. Let me see.”

He took the packet from her, hands steady, eyes sharp. He read with an attention that made everything else fall away.

“You caught the margin deviation,” he said.

“It didn’t match the rest of the series.”

“You were right.”

She tried to hide her reaction. She failed.

Alexander turned the next page. “And the vendor billing cycle—smart adjustment.”

“I wasn’t entirely sure—”

“You were correct,” he said quietly.

Her throat tightened.

When he finished the packet, he closed it, then looked at her more directly than she was prepared for.

“You didn’t sleep well.”

It wasn’t a question.

Avery froze. “How… how do you know?”

He didn’t blink. “You usually hold your posture differently when you’re rested.”

Her breath stilled.

He noticed things she didn’t even notice about herself.

Before she could respond, someone walked by the glass wall again. The shadow paused for a heartbeat too long—watching.

Alexander’s eyes flicked toward the movement, his expression sharpening. The faintest trace of tension settled around his jaw.

He lowered his voice. “Ignore it.”

“I’m trying,” she said softly.

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Her breath caught again.

He stepped back slightly, as if giving her room she hadn’t asked for but needed. “There’s a meeting at three. You don’t need to attend.”

Avery swallowed. “Do you want me there?”

He hesitated—a subtle shift she almost missed. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll come.”

Something quiet passed through his expression. Approval. Relief. Something more she didn’t dare identify.

“Good,” he said.

She turned to leave, but he spoke again.

“Avery.”

Her hand paused on the door.

He didn’t move. Didn’t soften. But his voice did.

“You’re not alone in this.”

The words landed deeper than she expected.

She nodded—barely. “Okay.”

When she returned to the elevator, she felt unsteady in a way that wasn’t panic but something dangerously close to it. Something that made her chest warm and tight at the same time.

When she stepped back onto the fourteenth floor, she noticed something immediately:

People stopped talking when she walked by.

Not everyone. Not loudly. But the silence was unmistakable—the kind that fills spaces where whispers had been.

She pretended not to notice and returned to her desk. She ate a few bites of lunch, though her stomach was too twisted for more.

By mid-afternoon, she went to the meeting.

This time, more eyes followed her.

She took a seat near the side, pulse unsteady. Alexander entered moments later. His gaze caught hers for a breath—quiet, steady, deliberate.

Someone behind her whispered, “He always looks for her.”

Avery’s hands froze around her pen.

During the discussion, Alexander referenced her work three separate times.

“Collins identified the error.”  

“Collins confirmed the variance.”  

“Collins flagged it first.”

Each time, her chest tightened.

When the meeting ended, people stood slowly—too slowly—some glancing between her and Alexander as if waiting for a pattern to repeat.

It did.

He waited until most of the room emptied before approaching her.

“You did well,” he said.

Avery tried to keep her voice even. “I just checked what was already there.”

“That’s more than some,” he said.

She felt heat rise in her cheeks.

He lowered his voice. “Was anyone out of line today?”

“No. Just…” She gestured vaguely. “People notice things.”

“They can notice,” he said quietly. “They don’t get to decide anything.”

Her heart thudded painfully.

“You should go home on time today,” he added.

“On time?”

“Yes.” His tone softened. “You look tired.”

She swallowed. “Okay.”

He stepped back but didn’t leave, watching her with an expression she still didn’t know how to read—something between concern and restraint.

“Rest,” he said.

It sounded like an instruction.  

It sounded like something else too.

When she left the room, her legs felt unsteady. She pressed a hand against her chest as she walked down the hall.

Someone outside the conference room murmured, “She must be important to him.”

Avery didn’t hear the rest.

She didn’t need to.

Back at her desk, she sat down slowly, breathing carefully through the tightening in her chest.

The whispers were growing. The glances sharper. The questions louder.

She wasn’t sure which frightened her more:

That everyone thought something was happening.

Or that deep down…  

she didn’t know how to keep insisting nothing was.