“I was hoping to catch you,” he said. “You free later? Thought we could grab a drink.”
It wasn’t new. It was practically a rite of passage as a young, female, and competent in this field. People assumed your smilewas an invitation, your professionalism was flirtation, and if you were kind, you were available. Each instance chipped away at my patience, a reminder of the constant balancing act I had to perform. Sometimes after these exchanges, I would catch myself clenching my jaw or rubbing my temples, tension radiating down my neck and settling in my shoulders. It was frustrating and exhausting, a relentless background hum that I couldn’t tune out. Some days, it made me want to melt into invisibility, just to get a break from carrying that invisible weight. Still, even on the worst days, I reminded myself of what brought me back. There was hope in every client I helped, and in the small moments of kindness and honesty that made even the hardest days feel worthwhile. I held onto the belief that every bit of resilience I showed today would make tomorrow a little lighter.
I glanced up then, meeting his eyes. “I’m busy, can’t.”
He chuckled like I’d made a joke. “Come on, Daniela. One drink. You deserve it after how you ran circles around my witness last week.”
Just then, my phone buzzed on the desk.
I already knew who it was without looking.
Still, I did.
Logan:Survive Monday
morning drop off?
I turned, facing the D.A. fully now. “Josh. I’ve told you before — It’s Dani, and I’m not interested.”
He leaned in a little, still smiling like this was a game. “You’ve got to loosen up. You’re always so serious.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m always professional. And this job is serious.”
That wiped the smile from his face for half a second. “You know, a lot of attorneys would kill for the kind of reputation you’re building.”
“I’m not here to build a reputation,” I said, voice cool. “I’m here to serve people who don’t have the luxury of choosing a defense.”
Josh shifted, clearly not expecting me to push back that hard. “Fine,” he muttered. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You can when he doesn’t listen the first time,” I let out a slow breath and stood, squaring my shoulders.
He paused at the threshold. “You’ll come around eventually.” He quipped.
I met his gaze without flinching. “Not in this lifetime.”
For a beat, the office noise seemed to fade.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Grace, one of the paralegals I worked with, walking in. Her short black bob swayed as she rushed into the office, her Dr. Marten boots stopping across the floor. I envied Grace for the ways she defined the norms with such confidence.
“There you are,” she said brightly, cutting in without missing a beat. She glanced pointedly at the DA, her smile sharp but professional before turning to me. “I was just coming to, ya know, do some work. Everything good here?”
Her pointed glance at Josh was surgical.
The DA blinked, clearly re-calibrating, muttered something about following up later, and retreated down the hall.
Grace waited until he was out of earshot before leaning in. “You good?”
I exhaled, tension easing from my shoulders. “Yeah. Thanks for the save.”
“Anytime,” she said, pressing the files into my hands. “He’s such a creep.”
I smiled, grounding myself in the familiar weight of the paperwork. “He sure is.”
She started to walk off, then paused and glanced back at me. “For what it’s worth, you handled that perfectly.”
I watched her disappear down the hallway, allowing myself to process that entire interaction.
I hadn’t raised my voice, hadn’t apologized, hadn’t softened the boundary to make him comfortable. And it felt… unexpectedly empowering—a spark of self-assurance settling inside me as I realized the shift.
