That minute stretched. Then disappeared.
I didn’t realize how late it had gotten until the overhead lights dimmed automatically and the floor fell into that end-of-day quiet.
I grabbed my phone, saw several missed calls and texts from Adrian, and called him immediately.
He picked up after a few rings. “Hey.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I lost track of time. The reports completely got away from me.”
There was a pause, long enough for me to notice.
Behind me, a voice cut through the quiet.
“Hey, I’m heading down,” Harley said casually. “I’m parked on B2. Wanna head out together?”
I lifted my hand just enough to signal him to stop, shook my head, and mouthed,‘You go ahead’as I turned slightly away.
“I’m still at the office,” I added into the phone, steadying my voice. “I’ll be leaving in a minute.”
Silence pressed against my ear.
“...alright,” Adrian said finally.
“I’ll be home soon,” I said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Drive safe.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone for a second longer than necessary before slipping it into my bag and standing up.
When I reached the elevators, I slowed, then stopped when I realized Harley already standing there, waiting.
“You’re still here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Was heading down anyway.”
“You didn’t have to wait,” I said. “You could’ve gone first.”
“It’s late,” he replied simply. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know. You can go ahead.”
For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable, before stepping aside as the elevator doors slid open.
“It’s fine,” he said lightly. “I’m here anyway.”
I stepped inside, the doors closing behind us, the low hum of descent filling the space between us. And yet, for reasons I didn’t fully want to name, my chest felt just a little heavier as the elevator carried us down.
—?—
Adrian
The call ended, but the silence didn’t. I stayed where I was, the phone still pressed to my ear for half a second too long, listening to nothing. Just the faint hum of the room. The air conditioner. My own breathing.
I replayed the call in my head. The pause before she answered. The way her voice shifted—subtle but unmistakable—when someone spoke behind her. A man’s voice.
I paced the room, my steps sharp and controlled, every muscle wound tight. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about a coworker walking out with her. Hell, I barely noticed the men around her back then. I was secure, confident, certain she was mine.
