Julia arrived at the design office the next morning feeling like she had slept with a weight on her chest. The night before had been quieter than their last argument, but not easier. She and Aaron had talked only enough to acknowledge the situation, then drifted into a tired silence that neither of them knew how to break.

But deadlines didn’t wait for emotional recovery.

By nine thirty, she had already answered six emails, redrawn a living room layout, and scheduled a call she didn’t want to make. The office hum surrounded her—printers, clicking keyboards, Melissa’s voice floating somewhere too close. Julia kept her gaze fixed on her screen, pretending the world was manageable if she didn’t look away.

Her phone buzzed. A message from a colleague down the hall.

*Ethan just got in. He said he’s bringing back the samples you needed.*

Julia blinked. She had forgotten all about that conversation. Ethan was one of their project consultants—smart, organized, calm in a way that made clients trust him. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but he wasn’t a stranger either. Their paths crossed just enough to stay familiar.

A few minutes later, he appeared at her desk carrying a precisely labeled folder.

“Morning,” he said gently, as if reading the exhaustion in her face.

“Hey,” she answered.

“These are the samples from the vendor,” he said, setting the folder down. “They ran out of the sandstone option, but the others are here.”

“Thanks. Sorry, I meant to follow up earlier.”

“You don’t have to apologize for having a life.” He tilted his head slightly. “Do you have a minute?”

Julia hesitated before nodding. Ethan gestured toward the hallway. “Let’s take a coffee break. You look like you need one.”

She almost refused out of instinct, but something in her tightened chest loosened at the offer. Five minutes away from her screen might actually keep her from unraveling later.

They walked down the street to the café across the block. The place was quiet enough to feel separate from the office—warm lights, soft chatter, the smell of toasted bread. Julia ordered a black coffee; Ethan got the same.

“You seem tense,” he said once they sat down. “More than usual.”

She let out a thin breath. “It’s just been a lot.”

“Work?”

“Work. Life. Everything.”

He didn’t push. He stirred his coffee with a wooden stick, patient in a way few people managed to be during a workday.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you don’t have to give details, but if you ever need to talk through something—project related or not—I’m around.”

Julia gave a small, tired smile. “I appreciate that. Really.”

The warmth of the cup seeped into her hands, grounding her. The silence between them wasn’t awkward; it was space. Something she hadn’t had enough of lately.

Ethan leaned back slightly. “I saw the updated construction reports this morning. Brookhaven Ridge is… having a rough season.”

She froze. “You saw them?”

“I consult for one of the vendors. News travels.” He paused. “I’m guessing that affects you more than most.”

“It’s our house,” she whispered before she could stop herself.

His expression softened—not pity, not curiosity, just understanding. “That’s tough.”

Julia nodded, unable to form more words. She wasn’t used to admitting how much the delays hurt. With Aaron, she always tried to stay positive, afraid of making him feel like she doubted the future they were building. With colleagues, she pretended everything was under control.

But here, in a café with someone who wasn’t judging her, the truth slipped out more easily.

Ethan took a sip of coffee. “You know… sometimes the best thing you can do is give yourself permission to be overwhelmed.”

Julia let out a small, surprised laugh. “I don’t think my schedule allows that.”

“Then give yourself five minutes,” he said lightly. “Start there.”

She looked down at her coffee, the dark surface reflecting her drawn face. Five minutes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had paused long enough to breathe without bracing herself.

“You look like someone carrying too much,” Ethan added quietly.

She swallowed. “I think I am.”

He nodded, as if that were the most reasonable thing she could have said. “Well, if you need a break later this week, I’ll be around. This café has the best cinnamon bread in the neighborhood. Strong contender for stress relief.”

“Is that professional advice?” she asked.

“Purely personal,” he said with a small smile.

Julia returned it—small, fleeting, but real.

Their break lasted only ten minutes, but it was enough to reset her shoulders, enough to uncoil something inside her she hadn’t realized was clenched.

Back at the office, Melissa intercepted her before she reached her desk.

“Where’d you go?” Melissa asked.

“Coffee,” Julia said.

“With who?”

“A consultant.”

Melissa raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. She walked away with her usual bright energy that somehow made everything feel worse.

Julia sat, opened her inbox, and tried to prepare herself for the next wave of tasks. But her thoughts drifted to Aaron unexpectedly. To his tired eyes. His steady arms. The way he had held her the night before even when she couldn’t lean into him fully.

She picked up her phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

**Hope your day’s okay. Let’s figure things out together tonight.**

She didn’t send it. Not yet. But just typing it felt like a small bridge back toward him.

The day stretched on—meetings, calls, revisions. By the time evening came, Julia was exhausted but not hollow the way she’d been the day before. The café break had given her just enough space to breathe.

When she got home, Aaron was at the table sorting through bills. He looked up when he heard the door.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” She set her bag down. “You ate?”

“Not yet. Wanted to wait for you.”

She sat across from him.

“Long day?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “But… manageable.”

He smiled softly. “That’s something.”

Julia hesitated, then reached across the table. Aaron’s hand met hers immediately, warm and careful.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said.

For the first time in days, she felt like she could believe him—even if the weight wasn’t gone, even if the path wasn’t clear. The pressure was still there, but so was the choice to keep trying together.

And tonight, that was enough.