Aubrey tried to act normal on Monday. She really did. She woke up, brushed her teeth, stared at her own reflection for a full thirty seconds, and told herself she could do this. “This” being… what exactly? Functioning? Pretending she wasn’t emotionally unraveling? Showing up to work without immediately quitting?
All of the above, apparently.
She put on a sweater that looked slightly less depressed than her usual ones and walked out the door before she could talk herself out of existing. The cold morning air hit her in the face like reality, which she found rude but helpful.
The walk to work was uneventful until her phone buzzed.
Chase: Awake? Alive? Breathing?
She rolled her eyes.
Aubrey: Barely.
Chase: Great. Want coffee?
Aubrey: I’m already walking to work.
Chase: That wasn’t my question.
She groaned.
Aubrey: Fine. Yes. Coffee.
Chase: I knew you cared.
Aubrey: Don’t ruin it.
Chase: Too late.
She put her phone away before he could send a dozen more messages.
When she reached the office building, Chase was standing outside with a cup in each hand, bouncing slightly like he’d been waiting ten minutes and had too much energy to hold still.
“You’re early,” she said.
“You’re late,” he corrected.
“It’s 8:54.”
“And you start at nine.”
“That’s not late.”
“It is spiritually late.”
She stared at him. “What does that even mean?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just felt like saying it. Here.”
He handed her coffee. She took it without arguing. The warmth felt like a small apology from the universe.
“Why are you here?” she asked, taking a sip.
“Thought you’d need backup.”
“For what?”
He gestured vaguely at the building. “Whatever hell happens inside.”
“That’s… accurate,” she admitted.
He looked at her carefully. “You okay?”
“Define okay.”
“Not crying in a supply closet.”
“Then yeah. I’m okay enough.”
He smiled. “Good. Text me if you need to be rescued.”
“I’m not dragging you into my work problems.”
“Too late,” he said. “I have a cape and everything.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“You don’t know that.”
She glared. He winked. She turned before he could make her laugh.
Inside, the office was its usual mix of clicking keyboards and slow-moving misery. Her boss, Sandra, stood by the printer with a stack of papers that looked like disappointment in physical form.
“You’re here,” Sandra said when she noticed her.
“That’s generally how jobs work,” Aubrey said before her brain could stop her.
Sandra blinked. “Excuse me?”
Aubrey scrambled. “I mean—yes. I’m here. Good morning.”
Sandra narrowed her eyes like she sensed rebellion but wasn’t sure where it was hiding. “I need the storyboard revisions by noon.”
“By noon?” Aubrey repeated. “You sent them at 11 p.m.”
“And?” Sandra asked, already walking away.
Aubrey considered committing a crime.
She set her bag down, opened her laptop, and stared at the email again. It was awful. The requested changes made no sense. The timeline was impossible. And yet she started working anyway, because rent existed and life was unfair.
By ten, she had a headache.
By eleven, she had a migraine.
At eleven thirty, her phone buzzed.
Caleb: How’s the morning?
Her chest softened in a way she didn’t want to think about.
Aubrey: Work is a nightmare.
Caleb: Can I bring you lunch?
She froze.
Why was he like this? Why was he gentle in a way that felt like someone putting a warm hand on her spine? Why did his timing always feel perfect? Why did she feel guilty for wanting him around when Chase had been the one there the last two days?
Her brain hated complexity. She was not built for complexity.
Aubrey: You don’t have to.
Caleb: I know.
She stared at the message.
He always said that—“I know”—like he wanted her to choose, not owe him.
Aubrey: What kind of lunch?
Caleb: Something edible.
She smiled despite herself.
Aubrey: Okay. But only if you’re not busy.
Caleb: I’ll see you at noon.
Great. Now she had half an hour to panic.
She tried working again but her thoughts were loud. Too loud. Not even the stress muted them. Chase bringing her coffee. Caleb wanting to bring her food. The keychain still in his pocket. Her own heart refusing to pick a lane.
Why couldn’t life come with an instruction manual?
Noon arrived too fast.
She walked outside and immediately saw him. Caleb stood near the corner holding a brown paper bag, wearing his usual calm expression like he didn’t know he was making her life harder by existing.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she said, trying to sound casual and failing.
“I got you a sandwich,” he said. “Not the sad kind.”
“Good. I’ve met too many sad sandwiches.”
He smiled—small, soft.
They sat on a bench near the building. She unwrapped the food and took a bite.
“Oh my god,” she said. “This is actually amazing.”
“Good,” he said. “You looked like you needed something good today.”
Her chest tightened again.
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“Always,” he replied.
Aubrey ate slowly, partly because the food was good, partly because eating delayed thinking. Caleb sat beside her, not crowding, not demanding, just… there. Solid in the way a chair is solid. Reliable in a way she didn’t know how to accept without overthinking.
“You look better,” Caleb said.
“I look like a person who hasn’t cried yet today,” she corrected.
“That counts as better.”
She huffed a laugh.
They ate quietly for a moment. Aubrey watched people walk by—couples, coworkers, a guy walking three dogs who clearly didn’t want to walk together. Normal life things. She used to feel disconnected from all of it. Lately, she felt… slightly less disconnected.
Caleb wiped his hands and leaned back. “You’re handling things well.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he said simply.
She stared at him. “Why do you always say it like it’s a fact?”
“Because it is.”
Her brain short-circuited for a second.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed.
Chase: Did you die
Chase: Should I send help
Chase: Should I come kick your boss
Chase: I can kick her
Chase: I have long legs
Aubrey covered her face with her hand.
Caleb tilted his head. “Chase?”
“Who else,” she muttered.
“He checks on you a lot.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Caleb didn’t comment.
He didn’t look jealous.
He didn’t look annoyed.
He looked… thoughtful. But calm.
“You two are close,” he said.
Aubrey choked. “No. We’re not. Absolutely not.”
“You talk to him a lot.”
“He talks at me. I respond so he won’t show up at my job.”
Caleb laughed softly. “That sounds right.”
She peeked at him. He wasn’t bothered. Not even a little.
Why was he like this?
Why was he so stable?
Why did that make her nervous and relieved at the same time?
Caleb finished his drink. “Want to walk a minute before you go back in?”
She nodded.
They walked down the block, slow, like neither of them wanted to go back to their responsibilities. Aubrey shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders raised against the cold. Caleb walked beside her, giving her space but never drifting far.
“I’m glad you texted,” he said suddenly.
She blinked. “I barely texted anything.”
“You texted,” he repeated. “That’s enough.”
Her chest warmed and panicked at the same time.
“This is complicated,” she blurted.
“What is?”
“Everything.”
Caleb didn’t rush her. “Okay.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s normal.”
“It feels like I’m messing up.”
“You’re not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But I trust you anyway.”
Her breath caught.
Trust.
He said it like breathing.
“I don’t trust myself,” she said quietly.
“I do.”
She almost stopped walking.
She didn’t.
Barely.
They reached the corner, where she needed to turn back toward the office. She hesitated.
Caleb noticed. “Want me to walk you in?”
“No,” she said quickly. Then, softer, “No. I’m okay.”
He nodded, respectful. No hurt, no pressure.
“Text me if work gets bad,” he said.
“It’s always bad.”
“Text me anyway.”
She swallowed. “Okay.”
Caleb stepped back, but only a little. “See you later.”
“Yeah.”
He started walking away, and Aubrey felt something tighten in her chest. She didn’t know if it was longing or fear or both.
She watched him until she couldn’t anymore.
Then she checked her phone.
Chase: Did that sandwich help
Chase: If not I’m buying ice cream
Chase: And yes at 1pm, don’t question it
She groaned.
Aubrey: Stop being dramatic. I’m fine.
Chase: LIE
Chase: I know a “fine” when it’s not fine
Chase: Where are you
Chase: Im coming
Aubrey: NO
Aubrey: DO NOT COME
Chase: :)
She nearly screamed.
Back inside, the office felt smaller than usual—tight, fluorescent, demanding. Her inbox piled up. Sandra called her name twice. The headache returned with friends.
At 2 p.m., she heard the sound.
A loud knock.
On the office window.
She turned slowly.
Chase stood outside the glass panel of the lobby, holding a cup of ice cream in one hand and waving with the other like an idiot.
Aubrey whispered, “Oh my god no.”
Her coworker whispered, “Is that for you?”
Aubrey lied. “Absolutely not.”
Her coworker nodded like she didn’t believe her at all.
Aubrey walked out to the lobby, opened the door just enough to hiss, “What are you doing?”
“Saving you,” Chase declared, holding out the ice cream.
“It’s two in the afternoon!”
“Exactly. Morale is low.”
She stared at him. “You can’t keep showing up everywhere.”
He grinned. “Watch me.”
“Chase.”
“Yes?”
“Go home.”
“No.”
“Chase.”
He leaned against the doorframe. “You look like you need five minutes.”
“I’m working.”
“And I’m helping.”
“You’re not.”
“Then let me try anyway.”
She closed her eyes. Groaned. Considered pushing him into traffic.
Then she took the ice cream.
“Five minutes,” she muttered.
Chase smirked. “Knew it.”
They stepped outside, just far enough from the window so her boss couldn’t see her defying capitalism.
Aubrey took a bite. It was stupidly good.
“Better?” Chase asked.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe.”
He nudged her shoulder. “Good.”
Aubrey sighed, looking at the sky like it might have answers.
It didn’t.
But the cold air helped.
And the company—God help her—helped too.
She looked at him.
Really looked.
“You’re annoying,” she said.
He grinned. “I know.”
“You’re too much.”
“Also true.”
“You make everything complicated.”
He shrugged. “Only the good parts.”
Her heart did something inconvenient.
She shoved the spoon into the cup. “I have to go.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t come back.”
“No promises.”
“Chase!”
He laughed and walked backward toward the sidewalk. “See you later, Collins!”
She watched him until he blended into the street crowd.
Her life had not been this chaotic a month ago.
And yet…
She wasn’t sure she wanted it to go back.
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