He woke up a little earlier than usual, partly because the room felt warmer than it should, partly because his phone buzzed on the nightstand. It wasn’t a message, just the morning alarm. Still, he glanced at the screen, half-expecting another line from her. Nothing new. He didn’t feel disappointed, but the thought passed through him anyway.

He stretched, sat up slowly, and stayed there for a moment. It was Tuesday, which meant the rest of the week would look like a repeat of yesterday: meetings, a few calls, and a lot of quiet work in front of his laptop. He reached for the hoodie on the chair, pulled it on, and headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

The apartment was silent, the kind of silence that felt normal but a little more noticeable today. He brewed a small pot, poured himself a mug, and leaned against the counter while checking the weather. It was supposed to be cool in the morning and warm in the afternoon. Nothing special. But he wondered if he’d run into her downstairs. Not that he planned to. He just wondered.

When he finally stepped into the hallway, his mug long finished and his bag over his shoulder, he let the door lock behind him. The hallway lights hummed softly. He took the stairs out of habit. Halfway down, he heard a sound below—someone shifting a bag, the faint clink of keys. He slowed just enough to guess who it might be.

She stepped into view a second later, holding a travel cup and a small brown paper bag. She looked like she’d slept fine but maybe rushed through breakfast.

“Hey,” she said, stopping on the step above him.

“Morning.” He kept his tone even, easy.

She lifted the paper bag slightly. “Bought a muffin downstairs. They finally restocked the blueberry ones.”

“You’re up early.”

“Not that early. I just wanted to avoid the elevator crowd. Didn’t work, though.” She glanced at the stairs below them. “Thought you’d take the elevator.”

“Didn’t feel like waiting,” he said.

She nodded like that made total sense. She shifted her bag and started walking again. He fell into step beside her, keeping an unhurried pace.

When they reached the lobby, the building manager was fiddling with something near the mailboxes. A few neighbors passed by, none of them paying much attention. The morning air coming in from the open front door felt crisp.

She pushed the door open for both of them. “You heading in early?”

“A little,” he said. “Needed time to catch up.”

“Same.” She balanced her cup with one hand while adjusting her jacket. “I have a call later, but nothing heavy.”

They started down the sidewalk. Their steps matched for several seconds before she spoke again.

“About yesterday,” she said quietly, not hesitant but careful. “I think we handled it well.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Smooth enough.”

“Better than I expected.” She sipped her drink. “I figured it would feel weird seeing you in the meeting grid.”

“It wasn’t that weird.”

She laughed softly. “I froze for like two seconds.”

“I saw,” he said.

“You did?” She raised her eyebrows, amused.

“Kind of hard not to.”

She tilted her head, considering that. “Well, anyway. Thanks for not making it awkward.”

“You didn’t make it awkward either.”

They reached the corner where she usually turned right and he went left. She paused, shifting her muffin bag.

“You want part of this?” she asked. “It’s too big. I’m not going to finish it.”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

She tore a piece off anyway, eating a small bite. “You should try it sometime. Tuesdays somehow taste better.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She looked like she might say something else, but a car passed by, loud enough to interrupt the moment. She tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded toward the crosswalk.

“I’ll see you on the call later,” she said.

“Yeah. See you.”

She started to walk away, then turned back for half a second.

“And… thanks again. For yesterday. You were steady.” Her voice wasn’t soft, just honest.

He didn’t move, just met her eyes briefly. “You were too.”

She gave a small wave with the muffin bag and crossed the street.

He waited until she was on the other side before he headed in his direction. The morning felt normal again, but not in a bad way. More like something shifting gently, almost unnoticed.

As he walked, his phone buzzed. A message preview lit the screen.

*Don’t forget to eat something real this morning. Coffee doesn’t count.*

He stopped just long enough to read it twice. No emoji, no extra punctuation, nothing dramatic. Just a simple reminder.

He typed back:

*Got it. You do the same.*

He slipped the phone into his pocket and kept walking. The city was waking up around him—cars starting, shop signs flickering on, a few people jogging past. It all felt routine, but with a faint thread of something else woven through it, something that made him pay a little more attention to the small details.

At a corner deli, he hesitated, then walked inside. The counter worker recognized him, nodded, and asked if he wanted “the usual.” He didn’t really have a usual, but it was fine. He ordered a breakfast sandwich and a small orange juice.

While waiting, he checked his phone again. No new messages. He wasn’t expecting any, but the habit had formed fast.

He sat at a tiny table near the window, unwrapped the sandwich, and took a bite. It wasn’t amazing, but it was warm and filling. Outside, a bus rolled past and people hurried down the sidewalk. He watched them without really thinking.

Halfway through his breakfast, his phone buzzed again—this time a calendar reminder for the afternoon meeting. He ignored it for now and leaned back in his seat. Yesterday’s meeting had gone smoothly enough, but today would probably involve more follow-up. He wondered if she would talk during the call, or if she’d stay quiet like she usually did unless necessary.

He finished his food, tossed the wrapper, and stepped back outside. A chill brushed his face, fading as the morning grew brighter.

On the walk to the train, he saw a dog tugging its owner toward a patch of grass, a delivery van double-parked, someone talking loudly into their earbuds. The ordinary rhythm of the city pressed around him, grounding but slightly different today, like his focus kept drifting somewhere else.

He reached the station entrance when his phone buzzed again.

*Ate half the muffin. Regretting nothing.*

He smiled—small, barely there, but real.

*Good choice,* he wrote back before heading down the stairs.

The train came within a minute. He grabbed a spot near the door, holding the rail with one hand. The car wasn’t crowded yet. The train jerked forward, and he let the motion settle him.

He thought briefly about last night—the hallway conversation, the message she sent before bed. None of it felt heavy. It just felt… easy. Natural in a way he didn’t question.

He stepped off the train at his stop, crossed the plaza, and headed toward the office building. The lobby was busy with people scanning badges and greeting each other. He joined the flow, rode the elevator up, and found his desk.

For a moment, he looked at the blank screen before turning the monitor on. The office air was cool, the hum of ventilation steady in the background.

He checked his messages again. Nothing new.

But somehow, that didn’t matter. The day was starting in a way that felt steady, familiar, and slightly better than usual.

He pulled out his notebook, jotted a couple of small tasks, and opened his laptop.

It was just a normal Tuesday.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the morning had already given him something to think about.