A wife.
An heir.
Expansion.
Theo’s laughter followed close behind it, sharp, deflective, too loud for the weight of the conversation. He joked when things mattered. I absorbed them. That had always been the difference between us.
I told myself I was thinking about the meeting. About legacy. About the warning my father had laid out so plainly.
That was a lie.
She came into view just ahead of me.
I recognized her immediately, not because I wanted to, but because my attention had already learned her shape. The easy confidence from inside was gone now, though. In its place: urgency. Tension held tight beneath her skin.
Her phone was pressed to her ear as she walked, pace brisk, uneven. The heels that had looked elegant inside clicked too fast against the sidewalk, like she was late for something she couldn’t afford to miss.
I should have passed her.
Passed her as I would anyone else who was in my way.
Anyone else.
But I didn’t.
I slowed instead, instinctive and unplanned, keeping enough distance not to intrude but close enough that her voice carried back to me in fragments.
“Yes, I know,” she said quietly. “I transferred it already.”
A pause.
“No... I don’t mind. I said I’ve got it.”
She wrapped an arm around her middle as she walked, a protective reflex she probably didn’t even realize she had.
“I’m serious,” she continued. “You don’t need to worry.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
Her voice faltered slightly and sounded strained.
“Hey,” she said gently. “We’re okay. I promise.”
I didn’t know who she was talking to.
I didn’t know the details.
I didn’t need them.
I recognized pressure when I heard it. The sound of someone carrying more than they should and doing it quietly.
She laughed then, but it wasn’t the laugh from the restaurant. This one was thinner. Forced. A patch over a crack.
She paused her movement, and I instinctively followed suit.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be home soon.”
Home? Who was she going home to?
