I stand in front of the mirror and try to assemble my face.
Not neutral—neutral reads as cold. Not smiling—smiling gets read as appeasing. Somewhere in between. Competent. Steady.
“I am competent and steady,” I tell my reflection.
My reflection doesn’t argue.
On the table, my laptop bag waits, already packed: printed copy of the timeline, backup USB, notebook, three pens, fidget stone. The complaint folder is as organized as it’s going to get.
What’s left isn’t preparation. It’s endurance.
A knock taps on my door. Two knuckles, gentle.
Flavius.
“Come in,” I say, and my voice almost doesn’t shake.
He fills the doorway like he always does—broad shoulders, worn T-shirt, jeans, boots. No armor, no swords. The only thing that marks him as different from any other man is… everything.
He studies me for a long, quiet second.
“You look ready,” he says.
“I feel like my insides are a swarm of bees,” I say honestly.
He nods. “Bees can still fly.”
A tiny huff of breath escapes me that might be a laugh.
He steps inside and lets the door fall shut behind him. The air shifts—less like a closed space, more like a held one.
“Time?” he asks.
“Two hours,” I say. “Laura’s letting me use the small conference room by admin. Zoom at eleven.”
He nods again, as if this matches some internal battle map he’s been building.
“Good,” he says. “We have time to breathe.”
He reaches for my hand—slow, visible, giving me every chance to refuse. I don’t. His palm closes around mine, warm and steady, and he leads me to sit against the headboard.
“Legs out,” he says gently. “Back supported.”
I obey. Automatic. Trust at the level of reflex.
He sits beside me, angled toward me, one knee bent between us so he can face me fully.
“Breathe first,” he says. “Then hands.”
I let my shoulders drop one notch.
“In through your nose for four,” he reminds me. “Hold for four. Out for six. Like waves. You showed me on your phone.” His mouth curves, soft. “Tried to make me love graphs.”
“You do love graphs,” I say weakly.
“Yes. Do not tell the others.” His gaze flicks over my face. “Ready?”
I nod.
