My phone rings, cutting me off. It’s Eliza, reminding me that the Donovans have arrived early for the mediation. I take a deep breath, gathering my composure.
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her, then hang up. “Duty calls.”
Aaron nods, closing his laptop. “I’ll follow your lead.”
We walk to the conference room in silence, maintaining a careful distance between us. I can feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, but now isn’t the time. The Donovans and his attorney are already seated, the tension between them palpable even through the glass walls.
“Ready?” I ask Aaron quietly.
“Always,” he replies, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the warmth that used to be there. It disappears as quickly as it came, replaced by his new professional mask.
The mediation is brutal. Mr. Donovan is belligerent, interrupting his wife at every opportunity. His attorney, a slick-haired man in an expensive suit, keeps shooting me condescending smiles. I maintain my composure, methodically dismantling their arguments with evidence and precedent.
Throughout it all, I’m hyperaware of Aaron sitting quietly in the corner, taking occasional notes. I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s judging me for my sharp retorts or admiring my legal strategy. Once, when Mr. Donovan makes a particularly nasty comment about his wife’s contributions to their business, I catch Aaron’s eye. The flash of anger there mirrors my own, and I silently pray he doesn’t make a scene. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
Three hours later, we’ve hammered out a preliminary agreement. It’s not perfect, but Mrs. Donovan seems satisfied, which is what matters. As everyone files out, I hang back,gathering my notes. Aaron does the same, and suddenly we’re alone again.
“You were impressive in there.” He breaks the silence.
“Thank you.” I give him a small smile, oddly pleased by his praise. “Was it helpful for your research?”
“Very.” He pauses, studying me.
“It’s nearly one. Do you want to grab lunch?” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
“I can’t.” He pauses. “I have plans.”
“Oh.” I try to keep my disappointment out of my voice. “With Katia?”
I sound jealous and possessive, as if I have any right to question who he spends his time with after I explicitly told him we couldn’t be more than colleagues.
“You’re confusing Minji, but no.” His expression is unreadable. “I’m meeting Grayson. He’s in town for a few more days.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just—tell him I said hello.”
“I will.” Aaron gathers his notebook and tucks it into his messenger bag.
I watch him walk away, his shoulders straight, his stride purposeful.
It’s crazy how I didn’t feel this way after William, with whom I dated for four years. Yet, after sharing a night with Aaron, after a decade, I suddenly feel like the ground is shifting beneath me. This isn’t typical for me—I’m rarely this unsettled, especially not because of a man. Honestly, Aaron isn’t just any man. He’s the one who first made me consider wanting more, and I ran from him back then.
When Aaron returns from lunch,he smells faintly of beer and something spicy, and there’s a relaxed set to his shoulders that wasn’t there this morning. Seeing his brother clearly did him some good.
“How was lunch?” I ask, trying to sound casual as he takes his seat across from me.
“Good. Grayson says hello back.” He doesn’t elaborate, just opens his notebook and flips to a clean page. I nod, swallowing the dozen questions I want to ask.Did you talk about me? What did you tell him? Does he think I’m horrible for what I did? Are we okay?
We work through the afternoon in this strange new reality—well, strange for Aaron because he is not flirty—polite, professional, distant. Every so often, I catch him watching me with an expression I can’t quite decipher. It’s not anger, exactly, but something more complicated. When our fingers accidentally brush as I hand him a document, I feel the jolt all the way to my toes, but his face remains impassive.
By five o’clock, I’m mentally exhausted from maintaining this façade. “I think we’ve covered everything for today.” I close the file.
“Great.” He stands, gathering his things with efficient movements. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Aaron,” I call as he reaches the door. He pauses but doesn’t turn around. “Are we… Is this how it’s going to be now?”
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath before he faces me. “How did you expect it to be, Minji?”
“I don’t know. Not like this.” I gesture vaguely between us.
