My phone rang. Thea.
“It’s good,” she said without preamble. “Fair, balanced, properly sourced. You buried your lede a bit in paragraph three, but that’s fixable on desk. “
“So I can file it?”
“One question first.” Her voice was careful. “How are you doing?”
I looked around the press room, Mason typing furiously three seats over, Sandra on a call with her editor, the usual chaos of deadline.
“Honestly? I want to scream,” I said quietly. “I want to run down to parc fermé and tell him he was brilliant. I want to celebrate with him properly instead of typing cold analysis into a laptop. “
“But you’re not going to do any of that.”
“No. I’m going to file this story, answer follow-up questions from editors, and go back to my hotel alone.”
Silence on the line. Then: “File it. You earned this one, Wally. Both the story and the restraint.”
29
AFTER THE FLAG
I uploadedthe article on Jonathan’s win to the Apex server, then slumped back in my chair, suddenly exhausted.
My phone buzzed.
JONATHAN:Can I see you?
I stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Every part of me wanted to say yes. To go to his room and celebrate properly. To tell him how brilliant he’d been, how watching him win on merit had felt like vindication for every doubt Nat’s interview had planted.
But Thea’s voice echoed in my head:I know about it.
WALDO:Not tonight. Tomorrow breakfast? Public place.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
JONATHAN:Understood. Tomorrow.
Screenshot. Forward to Thea:Visible emotional reaction to race result in press room, witnessed by Mason Banning and Sandra Baumgartner. Explained as national pride. May require follow-up if questioned. Additional contact - Sunday 10:47 PM. Declined private meeting, proposed public breakfast.
The response came back almost immediately:Good call.
After a few more minutes, Thea texted again.Race report filed after your review and approval. No concerns raised by main desk regarding tone or balance.
An hour later, my phone buzzed.
JONATHAN:Congratulations on the story. Elena showed me. You made it sound better than it felt.
My chest tightened.
WALDO:You made it easy to write. That was a hell of a drive.
JONATHAN:Can I see you?
I stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Every part of me wanted to say yes. And the guardrails didn’t forbid it. They just required transparency.
