That was just…Noah.
And as I slipped them on, I marveled that the leather felt buttery again, and the stitching was neat and sturdy.
My stomach twisted and an all-too familiar ache flared for a moment, but now wasn’t the time to fall into that hole again.
Not today.
I was up for a test that might be brutal—but I’d done my homework, and I was ready.
“Let’s do this then,” Mallory charged ahead.
The blast of overactive AC hit first, sharp and sudden, then the familiar hum of fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
Same chipped tiles. Same scuffed security desk.
Same building I’d walked into a thousand times before, only now it felt like enemy territory.
Mallory’s shoulder brushed mine as we walked, steadying me without saying a word.
At the reception desk, Janine looked up from her computer—same messy knot on top of her head, Oxford blouse as always, today’s version in pale pink.
“Luna.” Her smile wobbled slightly. Warm, but hesitant.
“Morning, Janine.” I made my voice come out lighter than I felt.
Because I was me. And no matter how messed up this all felt, politeness wasn’t something I could shake.
I took a second to introduce Mallory. Asked how Janine had been. Pretended everything was fine.
Her expression faltered, her lip catching briefly between her teeth. Maybe apologetic. Maybe not.
“They’re waiting for you in Conference B,” she said quietly.
“Okay.”
I smiled, aiming for calm and mostly pulling it off, and turned toward the hallway.
But Janine’s voice caught me before I could go.
“It was really messed up, what Leo and Kensington did.” Her cheeks flushed bright pink, but she straightened a little, pushing through. “I just wanted to say that I was not okay with that.”
Now I was the one blushing. Somehow, hearing that almost made me want to cry, even though Janine and I had never been close.
“I—thank you. I really appreciate that,” I managed softly.
She gave a quick nod, and then smoothed her blouse nervously, returning to her paperwork.
I waited a beat, but when I continued toward Conference Room B, a small flutter of warmth curled in my chest.
After weeks of being bashed and gossiped over online, hearing even one person at the station support me, in person, untangled part of the knot in my stomach.
I couldn’t get comfortable, though, because any second now, I’d be facing not only the station higher-ups, but…Leo.
Had it really only been two months since I’d dumped that bowl of filling over his head? Since we went from a seemingly loving couple—partners in business and life—to…this?
I’d finally listened to his messages, vague and friendly at first…the last one considerably less friendly, and ending with, “Call me when you’ve decided to act like a grown-up.”
All transcribed now, in one of Mallory’s files.
