The rest of the week went… fine. On the surface, at least.

Val and I fell back into our rhythm—banter that came too easy, laughter spilling between us at the smallest things. She always seemed so happy, glowing even, like the thought of leaving for her masters was nothing more than another exciting chapter in her endless list of adventures.

Maybe she was too happy.

It was almost disarming, how carefree she looked when the sun was up.

But me? Every night, it was the same. I'd lie in bed, watching her chest rise and fall beside me, and the ache would return. It wrapped itself around me like a heavy blanket, pressing down until sleep finally dragged me under. The ache of knowing she'd be gone soon. The ache of pretending I was fine with it.

And through all of it, I never once told her how much it hurt. I didn't want her to feel guilty. Didn't want to see her wrestle with the choice she'd already made. I only hoped—really hoped—that the smile she wore during the day wasn't a mask. That she wasn't hiding the same fear behind her laughs, because God, she was so much better at pretending than I was.

Still, last night, my thoughts hadn't only been about her.

They had been about me, too. About the fact that today marked something else entirely—my first real step into the future. Gray & Milton. A whole new chapter of my life, opening at the same time hers was pulling her across an ocean.

Not exactly the kind of symmetry I wanted.

"Are you going to keep sulking in that shirt or actually get ready?"

Her voice pulled me out of my head. I turned, and there she was, padding into the room barefoot, wearing nothing but my hoodie. Just my hoodie. Her hair was a mess, her face soft from sleep, and still she looked like she owned the place, owned me.

She held out a steaming mug. "At least take a cup of coffee. Or tea. I'm not letting you run off to your big-boy job with an empty stomach."

I reached for my tie instead. "I'll be late, Val."

"No you won't," she said, stepping closer. "You're just being overly anxious."

Before I could argue, she set the mug down and tugged the tie from my hand. Her fingers worked deftly at the knot, pulling the fabric into place with quick, practiced motions. I watched the curve of her lashes, the way she worried her lip while concentrating. My eyes stayed locked on the tie, because if I looked directly at her, I'd probably lose whatever composure I had left.

She finished with a neat tug, smoothed her hands over my chest, then tilted her head back to grin at me. "You look hot, husband."

A laugh pushed out of me. "That's the goal, isn't it?"

> "Mm. Hot and employable. My favorite combo."

I reached for my briefcase, but her pout stopped me cold. She stood there with her lips pushed forward in the most ridiculous, deliberate way, tapping her finger against them like a neon sign screaming: Kiss me or else.

I shook my head, but leaned down anyway. Our mouths met, slow and soft, but then I felt her hand slide into my pocket.

I pulled back, squinting at her. "What did you just steal?"

She pulled her hand out, holding nothing. Just smirking.

Suspicious, I reached into my pocket and my fingers brushed over cold metal. Pulling it out, I found her car keys resting there, mocking me.

"Val…"

She grinned, triumphant. "I want my husband to show up in style. No bus rides today."

I blinked at the keys, then at her. "Thanks."

But before I could say more, she leaned back against the counter, arms folded. "Don't talk to any girls, though. If they ask, you're gay."

I snorted, shaking my head. "Seriously?"

"Deadly serious," she said, eyes glittering. "Handsome man in a suit? Yeah, no, you're officially unavailable. I'll spread the rumor myself if I have to."

I was still chuckling when Duchess trotted in, tail wagging like she was the one excited for my first day. I bent down, gave her a quick scratch behind the ears, then straightened again. Val was already at the door, leaning on the frame like she'd been waiting to see me off her whole life.

She handed me the mug I hadn't touched earlier. "Drink it on the way."

I took it, slid the briefcase strap over my shoulder, and walked out into the morning with her by my side. She waved as I slipped into the driver's seat of her SUV, her hoodie hanging loose around her frame, hair falling over one shoulder like a curtain.

The engine hummed to life.

And as I pulled away, the smile she'd left me with slowly faded, leaving only the thoughts that had been with me all week. The ones I couldn't outrun, no matter how fast I drove.

In less than two weeks, she'd be gone. Off chasing the future she deserved, while I stayed here trying to figure out how to live without her.

And the worst part?

There was nothing I could do to stop it.

---

The parking lot of Gray & Milton gleamed with polished cars, the kind of machines that said I've made it. My borrowed style—the pressed shirt Val insisted I wear, her SUV instead of me showing up on foot—felt like camouflage. Like I didn't belong yet, but I was trying hard to.

The building was glass and steel, sharp edges that looked like they'd cut you if you touched them wrong. I swallowed, squared my shoulders, and walked through the revolving doors.

"Mr. Tanaka?"

The receptionist's smile was bright, professional—like she'd been expecting me. Of course she had. Gray & Milton didn't wait for résumés; they'd sent the offer themselves, right after finals. I nodded, gave a polite hello, and she handed me an employee badge before making a call for someone to come get me.

That someone turned out to be Mr. Clarkson, my team lead—mid-forties, steady handshake, the kind of presence that made you want to sit up straighter. "Welcome aboard, Kai. We're glad to have you. Let's get you introduced to the team."

The office floor buzzed with the low hum of phones, keyboards, and half-muted conversations. Open-plan desks, glass partitions, a coffee machine that hissed in the corner like it was constantly annoyed.

"Team, this is Kai Tanaka, our new entry-level analyst. Fresh out of university, stellar GPA." Clarkson's tone was warm but clipped, like he had ten more things to do in the next five minutes.

I caught nods and polite smiles. A couple of quick "hey"s. Then—her.

Tasha Reynolds.

She sat two desks over from where mine would be, auburn hair falling in waves that looked too intentional to be accidental, a sharp blazer that meant business. She didn't just glance. She looked. A second too long, eyes narrowing in curiosity, then flicking down and back up as if cataloguing me.

Not hostile. Not unfriendly.

More like—interest.

I gave the faintest nod, the kind you give strangers when you're not sure if you'll be speaking again. She smiled. Quick. Small. But it lingered a beat too long.

Clarkson clapped my shoulder, drawing me along. "You'll be working closely with Tasha and a few others on the Bilmirage account."

Great. Already my chest tightened. Not at the idea of work, but at the idea of being noticed. Of being looked at in a way that wasn't Val's way. And with Val leaving soon, that felt dangerous in ways I didn't want to think about.

Introductions rolled on—Derrick, who cracked a joke about finally not being the "new guy"; Priya, who gave me a smile that was genuine but distracted by her dual monitors; and a couple others whose names blurred together in the nervous haze.

And then, finally, Clarkson pointed to a desk near the windows. My desk.

"Settle in. Orientation's later, but for now just get comfortable."

I lowered into the chair, the leather squeaking under me, the city skyline sprawling beyond the glass. This was it.

The moment I'd been waiting for.

The chance to change my life.

The beginning of everything I'd worked toward.

But instead of triumph, all I felt was the hollow ache in my chest.

Because Val wasn't here. And soon, she wouldn't be anywhere near at all.

---

To be continued...

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