Their words settle in the air, heavy but grounding—like a compass pointing me somewhere I’m not sure I’m brave enough to go.
But I know this much:
They’re right.
It’s just that time is not on my side.
Chapter 10
THE EDGE OF CONTROL
Control is a fragile thing… it cracks before it shatters
Della
The bar is buzzing, filled with the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter from every corner. Our table is no different—everyone is halfway through their second round of drinks, swapping stories about the best places to visit in Europe.
Adriana insisted we go out and make the most of our time left in Chicago, and I agreed. Distraction is more than welcome after today’s surprise encounter at the office.
I need to shut it all down—lock away the memories, numb the feelings.
“…and then he actually asked if he could ‘optimize’ the coffee machine,” Adriana says, laughing, her eyes bright. “As if we needed artificial intelligence to make espresso.”
The others burst into laughter. I manage a small smile, swirling my glass in my hand.
“Maybe he just wanted to make sure it could handle Mondays,” I murmur, my voice light enough to draw a chuckle.
Adriana grins at me. “You’d be surprised how many engineers have strong feelings about coffee.”
I let out a soft laugh, trying to relax, but every part of me feels tight, wound too tightly under my skin.
“So, Della,” one of the guys asks, leaning in with a teasing grin, “how’s Chicago treating you? Think you’ll survive this the week here?”
I raise my glass slightly, forcing a playful smile.Honestly, I wonder the same.
“I’m not sure,” I reply, the words tasting strange on my tongue. “If the coffee machines are safe, maybe I have a chance.”
They laugh again, and I nod along, pretending I’m part of the moment—but the noise feels distant, like it’s coming from underwater.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.
A man walking to the bar—black shirt, sharp frame, that same confident, deliberate stride.
For a split second, my heart seizes.
Dorian? Again?
But no. When I glance again, it’s not him. A stranger, already swallowed by the crowd.
Still, the weight in my chest lingers.
Adriana glances at me, noticing the shift.
“You, okay?” she asks, her voice pitched low enough that only I can hear.
I nod quickly. Too quickly.
“I’m fine,” I lie, forcing a small smile. “Just… the lights are giving me a headache.”
