At ten minutes till eight, the librarian appeared in the doorway. “I'm closing up the main floor,” she announced. “You're both welcome to stay as long as you need. The door will lock automatically behind you when you leave, so just make sure you have everything before you go.”
“Thank you,” Astoria and Miller said in unison while still avoiding eye contact.
The librarian left. The main lights in the outer library clicked off a few minutes later, leaving only the research room illuminated, a bright box in the surrounding darkness. Through the glass walls, Astoria could see the shadowed shapes of bookshelves, the empty tables, and the exit sign glowing red above the main door.
They were alone now. Completely, undeniably alone.
The silence took on a different texture—heavier, more present. Every sound Miller made seemed amplified: the tap of her fingers on her laptop keyboard, the rustle of pages, thesoft exhale that might have been frustration or something else entirely.
Astoria needed a different volume. She’d been avoiding it for twenty minutes, but the case she was looking for was only available in the bound reporters on the fall wall. The same wall that was directly behind Miller’s table.
She could wait. She could work on something else and find a way to come back to it.
She stood and walked toward the shelves, and after three paces, she heard Miller’s typing stop.
Astoria kept her eyes fixed on the spines of the books, scanning for the right volume. F.3d, F.3d…there. She reached for it, and her shoulder passed within inches of Miller’s head.
“Astoria.”
She should have kept moving. She should’ve taken the book, returned to her table, and maintained the distance they’d been preserving all evening. But instead, she stopped.
“Yes?”
Miller had turned in her chair, looking up at Astoria with an expression that made something twist in her chest. “This is ridiculous.”
“What is?”
“This.” Miller gestured between them. “Pretending we’re not— That we can just…” She broke off, pressing her lips together.
“Pretending we’re not, what?”
It came out sharper than Astoria intended, almost like a challenge. Miller’s jaw just tightened.
“You know what.”
It’d been eleven days since they’d stood close enough in the conference room to breathe the same air, since Rachel’s return had interrupted something that still kept Astoria awake at night. They hadn’t spoken since. No calls, emails, or accidentalencounters. Astoria had told herself the distance was a relief. But she’d been lying.
“We’re on opposite sides of an active case,” Astoria said. “There’s nothing to pretend about. This is simply how it has to be.”
“I know that.” Miller’s voice was quiet. “I’m not disputing that. I’m just…” She stopped, pressing her fingers to her temple. “I’m just so tired of pretending I don’t feel this.”
The words landed like stones in still water, ripples spreading outward.
Astoria should step back and say something cutting, something that would rebuild the wall between them, something that would make Miller retreat to her side of the room and let them both survive the next few hours with their professional boundaries intact.
Instead, she heard herself ask, “Feel what?”
Miller laughed dryly. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“I’m not making you do anything.”
“No.” Miller’s voice had dropped and roughened in a way that made Astoria’s skin prickle. “No, you’re not. And that’s the problem. You’re not doinganything. You’re just standing there, and I can’t stop?—”
She cut herself off. Her hands were shaking slightly at her sides, and her eyes were bright with something that looked like anger but wasn’t.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” Miller said. “I’ve tried. For a week, I’ve tried, and I know it’s impossible and I know all the reasons and none of it matters because you’re all I think about anyway.”
The only sound was the hum from the fluorescent lights. Astoria let the words settle. She should walk away. Every rational part of her brain was screaming it.
