Two orgasms later, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.
I dreamt of those hands, the curve of his lips, and the broad shoulders beneath his shirt.
When I woke up the following morning, I waited.
And waited.
But the guilt and shame didn’t come.
???
For the first time in eighteen months, I smiled on the way to work.
Not a polite smile. Not the rehearsed version I kept in my pocket for customer calls. A real one.
I interacted with people I usually ignored in the office. I asked about someone’s weekend. I laughed at a joke that wasn’t even that funny. My eyes didn’t linger where they shouldn’t, and there was no inappropriate flirting of any kind. I ignored the speculative looks when they came. Let them wonder.
I felt… steady.
I was happier speaking to my clients, even the ones who were sharp or downright rude. Their irritation didn’t stick to me the way it usually did. I listened properly. I responded without defensiveness. I closed two policies before lunch.
My numbers were up.
By midday, I decided to take a walk through the park close to the office instead of eating at my desk like usual. The sun shone through the trees, warm but not suffocating. Birds chirped somewhere overhead, and the air smelled faintly of cut grass and city heat.
I sat on a bench, unwrapped my sandwich, and actually tasted it.
I enjoyed the view.
No racing thoughts. No background hum. Just a quiet, manageable awareness.
My light dimmed slightly when I got home.
Not extinguished. Just lowered.
My feet dragged a little as I slowed at the gate. The familiar brickwork. The familiar windows. The familiar weight settling on my shoulders.
I prepared my mask before I opened the door, smoothing my expression into something neutral and agreeable.
But even they were a touch more bearable than before.
Their voices didn’t scrape.
Their glances didn’t pierce.
Something had shifted.
And it wasn’t them.
Chapter 6
Maddox
Stella Byron was too traumatised not to have a past.
I scratched at the surface first. No social media accounts. No digital footprint. Unusual for someone her age.
So I trawled through her parents’profiles instead, following comment threads until I found something worth pulling. I sent enough friend requests through a fake account to reconstruct the timeline.
