The office felt lighter once the call ended. Monday mornings always carried a certain weight, but once the main task was out of the way, people seemed more willing to breathe. Liam closed a few tabs, saved his notes, and stretched his hands out in front of him. His coffee had gone cold, but he drank the last sip anyway.

Caleb leaned back in his chair. “Well, we survived.”

“We did,” Liam said.

“They seemed normal,” Caleb added. “No dramatic personalities. No one trying to take over the whole project.”

“That helps,” Liam said.

Caleb spun halfway around in his chair. “And their designer seemed sharp. She didn’t look like someone who pushes decisions just to push them.”

Liam kept his expression neutral. “Yeah. She seems solid.”

Caleb didn’t catch any change in tone. He was already reaching for a snack bar from his drawer. “I’m taking a break. My brain is done for the next ten minutes.”

“Go for it,” Liam said.

Caleb wandered off toward the kitchen. Liam stayed at his desk, letting the quiet settle. The message thread from Zoey was still open on his phone, but he didn’t tap it again. They had exchanged enough for the moment.

He stood and walked to the window. The street five floors below was busy but not frantic. Delivery vans stopped in short intervals, people crossed at the corner, someone walked a small dog that didn’t seem interested in moving at all. Life had resumed its regular pace.

When he returned to his chair, Miranda stepped out of her office holding a notebook. “Good work earlier,” she said. “I’ll send out a summary this afternoon. For now, just organize your notes.”

“Okay,” Liam said.

“And don’t overthink anything yet,” she added. “It’s too early for that.”

He nodded. “Understood.”

Miranda walked off toward another team’s workspace. Liam turned back to his screen and cleaned up the leftover documents from the morning. After that, he forced himself to take a break. He grabbed his jacket and went downstairs to the street.

Outside, the air had warmed a little. He walked around the block, passing food trucks, small office buildings, and a row of bikes locked to a rail. A few people sat at outdoor tables eating early lunches. Someone opened a door from a shop, and the smell of bread drifted out.

He bought a bottle of water from a corner store and carried it as he walked. He didn’t need the walk for stress, but it cleared his head in a way that helped him reset.

When he went back upstairs, Caleb was back at his desk tapping his foot. “You eat yet?” Caleb asked.

“Not yet,” Liam said.

“I’m starving. Want to get something?”

“Sure.”

They left the building and walked to a small place that served sandwiches and salads. The line moved slowly, but neither of them minded. Liam ordered something simple and carried it back to the office.

At his desk, he ate while checking light messages. Nothing urgent. A few updates from the client. A short note from Miranda confirming a follow-up meeting for later in the week.

His phone buzzed once.

A message from Zoey: **That went better than I thought. Hope your side wasn’t too stressful.**

He thought for a moment before typing back: **Pretty smooth. You sounded prepared.**

A pause, then: **That’s because I practiced twice. And talked to myself once.**

Liam replied: **Whatever works.**

No response came immediately, which was fine. They didn’t need a full conversation during work hours.

The afternoon moved steadily. He and Caleb met briefly to check a few small details. They didn’t talk about the call much—just the parts they needed to follow up on. The rest didn’t require discussion.

Around four, people started packing up. Mondays tended to run long, but since the main meeting was already done, the floor emptied earlier than usual. Liam wrapped up his tasks, closed everything out, and stood to stretch.

“You heading out soon?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “I think I’m done for today.”

“Good. Go do something unproductive. That’s my plan.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“Probably falling asleep in front of the TV with snacks I’m pretending are healthy.”

“Sounds effective.”

“It is,” Caleb said proudly.

Liam packed his bag, said a quick goodbye, and left the building. Outside, the city had reached that late-afternoon rhythm: people heading home, buses half-full, a few kids just out of school wandering around with backpacks dragging lower than they should.

He walked to his bus stop. The ride home was slow but familiar. At his building, he stepped inside and climbed the stairs. The hallway lights hummed in a steady way he had grown used to.

On the second-floor landing, he heard footsteps. Zoey turned the corner at the same time he reached the top step. She had her jacket slung over one arm and a grocery bag in the other.

“Hey,” she said, a little out of breath. “Long day?”

“Not bad,” Liam said. “Yours?”

“Surprisingly fine,” she said. “The call didn’t collapse. That’s always a win.”

“Agreed.”

Zoey shifted the grocery bag. “I bought pasta stuff. I don’t know why. I just walked past the aisle and thought, ‘Sure, carbs.’”

“That’s reasonable,” Liam said.

She laughed under her breath. “Did you… have a normal day after? Or was it all chaos?”

“Pretty normal,” he said. “Some follow-up notes. Lunch. Nothing dramatic.”

“Good. My side was fine too. Except I spilled water all over my keyboard around two. It survived, though.”

“Impressive.”

She smiled. “Barely.”

They stood there in a pause that didn’t feel empty.

Zoey shifted her weight. “Hey… earlier. The meeting. I really didn’t expect to see you on my screen.”

“Same here,” Liam said.

“It was weird for like three seconds,” Zoey continued, “and then it wasn’t weird anymore. Maybe that’s good.”

“Probably,” Liam said. “Makes things simpler.”

“Yeah,” Zoey said quietly. “Simpler.”

Someone walked by carrying a stack of mail, nodding at them as they passed.

Zoey adjusted her bag again. “I should put this away before it leaks or something.”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “See you later.”

“See you.”

She walked toward her door. Liam went up the stairs to his floor. Inside his apartment, he set his bag down and loosened his shoulders. The room felt steady, familiar in a way it hadn’t a week ago.

He cooked something small for dinner and ate while sitting at the table. The day replayed in mild fragments, nothing dramatic—just small pieces fitting together.

Later, he turned on a light and let the room settle into its evening quiet. Someone down the hall played music softly. A dog barked once from a nearby apartment.

He checked his phone before bed.

A new message from Zoey appeared: **Good job today. Really.**

He typed back: **You too. Rest up.**

He placed his phone on the table, switched off the light, and eased into the quiet of the night.

Monday was done.

In a clean, simple way.