She blinks, caught completely off guard. "What?"
"I know we just said we'd pretend it never happened. And we will, if that's what you need. But I wanted you to know the truth. That night wasn't a mistake. You weren't a mistake. And I'm glad it was me."
Her lips part slightly. I can see her processing this, see the conflict playing across her face.
Before she can respond, there's a knock on the door.
"Everything okay in there?" Blake's voice comes through.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, we're good. Just discussing curriculum coordination between the English and History departments. Thought we could align some of our units, do some cross-disciplinary work."
"Oh, that's great," Blake says. "Really great idea. I'm heading out. See you tomorrow."
"See you," I call back.
We wait until his footsteps fade down the hallway. When I look at Mia again, the moment has shifted. Her walls are back up, but I can see the conflict still there in her eyes.
"We should probably grab coffee sometime," I say carefully. "As colleagues. Just to start fresh, you know? Get to know each other in a professional context."
She hesitates, and I can see her weighing the risks. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Probably not," I admit. "But I think it might help. For both of us."
She takes a breath. "Okay. Coffee. As colleagues."
"As colleagues," I agree, even though the word feels inadequate for what I'm actually feeling.
She leaves shortly after, and I'm left alone with the realization that I'm far more interested in Mia Wilson than I should be. More interested than is wise. More interested than makes sense given the complications.
I gather my things and head down the hallway toward the parking lot. As I pass the administrative wing, I glance up toward the offices. Jack is standing at his window, looking down at the hallway. His expression is unreadable, but something about the way he's watching makes my stomach tighten.
I look away and keep walking.
She nods, and for a moment I think she might cry. But she blinks rapidly, forcing the tears back. "Cancer. Stage four. The doctors say it's just a matter of time now. Weeks, maybe. A month or two if we're lucky."
My chest tightens. I want to cross the space between us, to pull her into my arms. But I can't. We've just agreed to be professional.
"God, Mia. I'm so sorry."
"I haven't seen him in nearly ten years." She finally looks at me, and the raw pain in her eyes nearly undoes me. "I ... well, I left without saying goodbye and we haven't spoken since."
I don't know what to say to that. The weight of it hangs between us, heavy and complicated. Ten years is a long time to carry that kind of silence.
"That must be incredibly hard," I say finally. "Coming back now, under these circumstances."
She nods, her throat working. "It is. But I couldn't not come back. Not when he's dying."
We stand in silence for a moment. The afternoon light shifts across the classroom floor. Outside, I can hear the faint sounds of parking lot activity: engines starting up as teachers start their cars, ready to head home.
"Mia," I say, and something in my voice makes her look up. "I need to tell you something."
"Okay," she says cautiously.
"I don't regret that night. Not for a second."
She blinks, caught completely off guard. "What?"
"I know we just said we'd pretend it never happened. And we will, if that's what you need. But I wanted you to know the truth. That night wasn't a mistake. You weren't a mistake. And I'm glad it was me."
