When we reached the restaurant, Harley stepped ahead and held the door open.
“After you.”
We ordered pasta and iced drinks, nothing alcoholic. Work lunches still had rules.
The food came quickly, and for a while, we just ate.
When our plates were nearly empty, I finally spoke. “I talked to Thomas today,” I said. “I’m taking two weeks off.”
He looked up immediately. “You? Taking time off?”
I smiled faintly. “I know. Hard to believe.”
He leaned back slightly, studying me, then nodded. “Good for you.”
“I’ll need you to cover a few things while I’m gone,” I added. “Just temporarily.”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. Then, more casually, “Where are you going?”
“Florida.”
He hummed softly. “Sounds... good.”
Silence settled again, not awkward, just careful.
Then he spoke. “I was actually planning to tell you something today.”
I already knew. Still, I waited.
“I’m resigning,” he said. “I meant to tell you myself.”
“I know,” I said gently. “Thomas told me.”
His shoulders dropped slightly. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that. You should’ve heard it from me first. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but it didn’t feel like the right time.”
“It’s okay,” I said honestly. “I understand.”
We fell quiet again. Harley picked up the pen on the table and rolled it between his fingers, a habit I’d seen a hundred times before.
A smile slipped out before I could stop it. “Don’t mess things up over there,” I said lightly. “You won’t have me fixing your reports anymore.”
He laughed, real and unguarded this time, the sound brief but genuine. “I’ll manage. You trained me for five years, remember?”
I laughed too, the kind that slipped out before I could think about it. He watched me for a moment, then hesitated, just enough to be noticeable.
“I hope you’ll be happy again, Elena,” he said quietly.
The sincerity caught me off guard. “Oh,” I said, then smiled. “I will.Thank you.”
He nodded, accepting the answer without asking for more.
—?—
Adrian
I got home just after seven.
The house was already lit—not bright, not dim—just enough to feel lived in. The quiet wasn’t empty. It was orderly. Functional. Like a place that still worked, even if something important inside it had stopped trying.
