The first morning at Gray & Milton passed in a blur of new faces and names I was supposed to remember. Numbers, projections, expectations—those I could handle. People? People were trickier.

Priya, the first on the team to introduce herself, was tall, sharp-eyed, and carried herself like she already knew she was going to run this place in ten years. She shook my hand once, firmly, then went right into explaining how the system worked, how reports were filed, how the spreadsheets spoke their own language if you learned to read them. No small talk, no wasted words. Efficient, precise. Like a walking manual.

Then there was Derrick—loud, easygoing, and already making jokes that shouldn't have been funny but somehow were.

He leaned closer, dropping his voice like he was letting me in on a secret. "Pro tip—never argue with Priya. She'll slice you up with numbers and you won't even realize you're bleeding." he whispered when Priya went to grab a file. "Don't worry though, she'll warm up eventually. Or not. Either way, you'll learn to love her death stares."

I chuckled, shaking my head, and he grinned like he'd just scored a win.

And then came Tasha.

She walked up to me when Derrick ducked away, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Auburn hair framed her face, sharp smile in place, eyes that lingered a second too long. She extended her hand, and when I took it, she didn't let go right away. Her fingers tightened just enough to make me notice, her gaze locking on mine in a way that was—intentional.

"Kai, right?" she asked, as if she hadn't already heard Priya say it twice.

"That's me," I said lightly, pulling my hand back just a touch sooner than politeness dictated.

Her eyes flicked down, catching the ring on my finger. "Married?"

I glanced at it, thumb brushing over the band. "Uh… oh, this? Not yet. But I sort of already have a wife."

Her brows lifted, the corners of her mouth twitching. "O…kay?" she said slowly, as if she couldn't tell if I was joking or delusional.

I gave her nothing more than a polite smile and turned back to my desk. Let her wonder.

---

By the time lunch rolled around, half the office gathered their things to head out. Derrick tried to convince me to tag along—"First day burgers are tradition, man"—but I waved him off with a promise to join them another time. Honestly, I just needed quiet.

I pulled out my phone, ready to scroll aimlessly, when the screen lit up with a name I couldn't mistake:

The Love Of My Life ❤️❤️ Celestia Valentina Moreau.

She'd forced me to save it like that back in second year, holding my phone hostage until I caved. At the time, I rolled my eyes. Now? Seeing it made my chest lighten in ways I couldn't explain.

I answered immediately. "Hey."

The screen filled with her face, dark brown hair falling sleek and perfect around her shoulders, not a strand out of place. Behind her, I caught a glimpse of her dad's office. Her eyes lit up the moment she saw me, like just being on the call was enough to brighten her whole day.

"So," she said, leaning into the camera, "how's it going?"

"Oh, you know," I deadpanned, glancing around the sleek office. "Spreadsheets, corporate jargon, a new chair that doesn't squeak. Living the dream. The usual."

She giggled, tilting her head. "The usual, huh? First day at Gray & Milton and it's already boring?"

"Not boring," I corrected. "Just… normal. Which I guess is good. No fire drills, no surprise pop quizzes. I think I can survive."

"You better," she said, her voice playful but her eyes soft.

I leaned a little closer to the phone, dropping my voice. "Seeing your face helps."

Her smile shifted, gentle for half a second before she pulled it back into a smirk. "Don't flirt with me during work hours, Mr. Tanaka. People might hear."

"Let them," I said, grinning.

Val's smile lingered a moment longer, the kind that always made my chest tighten, before it curled into something sharper. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with that mischievous glint I knew too well.

> "By the way, what happened between you and Marina?"

I frowned. "Marina?"

She nodded, lips curving into a mischievous smile. "Mm-hm. She told me you've been giving her—" Val mimed air quotes, "—'second-hand friendship vibes.'"

I stared. "Second-hand friendship vibes?"

Val's smile widened. "That's what she said. Apparently, you used to be her favorite person, but now you're all about Trent. She thinks you've traded her in."

I froze for half a second. Favorite person. Yeah, that was bait if I'd ever heard it. Val didn't just toss out lines like that—not without watching for how I'd react.

I kept my face straight, rolling my shoulders instead. "Unbelievable. She's so dramatic. I didn't trade her in, okay? Trent and I just—"

"—became brothers," Val finished for me, smug as ever.

"Exactly."

She tilted her head, pretending to think. "So Marina's pouting because she's not your number one anymore?"

"She never was," I said before I could stop myself.

Val's grin sharpened like a blade. "Good answer."

I chuckled under my breath. "Of course you'd like that."

"Like it?" she leaned closer to the camera, her voice soft, satisfied. "I love it. Best friend, girlfriend, wife—remember? All rolled into one. There's no room left for anyone."

I shook my head, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Impossible," she echoed sweetly, "and irreplaceable. Don't forget it."

Then, as if remembering something, her tone sharpened. "Oh, and don't talk to any other girls."

I raised a brow. "Define 'talk.'"

"Don't," she shot back instantly. "If they ask you a question, pretend you're mute. If they try to sit near you, move. If they ask if you're single, show them your ring and tell them you're married."

"Yes, ma'am," I said without hesitation.

Her lips curved, a little giggle slipping out before she leaned closer, kissed the camera, and pulled back. "Okay, I've got to go. Be good. I'll check in later."

Before I could reply, the screen went dark.

I stared at my reflection for a moment, the faintest smile tugging at my lips. Somehow, a two-minute call with Val outshone everything else—the polished office, the impressive title, even the fact that I was sitting at a desk in Gray & Milton.

It didn't matter how big the company was or how many opportunities were waiting here.

She was still the best part of my day. The call, her smile, her voice—that was what made everything feel real.

---

The drive home was a blur of red taillights and city noise, the kind of commute that usually dragged, but tonight, I barely noticed it. My mind was still looping through everything—new names, new systems, the low hum of the office, the sharp glances from people already sizing me up. My first day at Gray & Milton was behind me, and somehow, it still didn't feel real.

It felt even less real when I pulled into the lot and spotted the car parked in front of my place. Sleek. Glossy. An Aston Martin that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.

I parked beside it, shaking my head. Sometimes I forgot just how rich her family actually was. I mean, I knew it—I'd seen the house, the estates, the way her father's name carried weight everywhere we went. But every now and then, the reminder hit in ways I wasn't prepared for. Like tonight. Like this car, gleaming under the fading light, casually waiting like it was no big deal.

Val's world had always been on another level. And yet, here she was—choosing to spend her time in mine.

The thought stayed with me as I stepped inside.

The first thing that hit me wasn't silence or the dim stillness of an empty apartment. It was aroma. Rich, warm, and impossible to ignore. Something savory, layered with herbs I couldn't name. It was the kind of smell that wrapped around you instantly, promising comfort and care in ways words couldn't.

I blinked, almost laughing at myself. Of course. She was cooking.

My briefcase slid from my hand to the floor with a dull thud, forgotten. Duchess padded over, tail wagging lazily like she'd been expecting me all along. I crouched, scratching behind her ears until her eyes closed in that blissful way only cats can manage. "Hey, girl," I whispered. She licked my wrist once before trotting back toward the kitchen like she already knew I'd follow.

And I did.

I stopped in the doorway, leaning my shoulder against the frame.

There she was.

Val stood at the counter, hair falling like silk down her back, sleeves of her blouse pushed up as she moved with easy precision. She hummed softly, something low and tuneful, almost absentminded. The light caught on her dark brown hair, glossing it with warmth. She didn't notice me right away, too focused on slicing, stirring, tasting.

And I just…watched.

A smile tugged at my lips before I even realized it. Because she was right. She'd said it a dozen times in half-teasing ways, and I'd brushed it off. But she was right. We already looked like a married couple.

Me, coming home after work. Her, cooking dinner like she belonged in this kitchen as much as I did. It wasn't pretend. It wasn't a glimpse. It was real, at least for now.

And I'd kill to have this forever.

To walk through that door every night and see her here. To know that no matter what the world threw at me, this—her, us—would be waiting. It wasn't about the food. It wasn't about the apartment. It was about the peace she brought with her, the way she turned ordinary moments into something I wanted to hold onto for life.

She was everything and more I'd prayed for in a partner. Every unchecked box filled in ways I hadn't known were possible.

I couldn't stand in the doorway any longer.

I crossed the kitchen, slipped behind her and slid my arms around her waist. She startled just slightly before leaning into me.

"Welcome home, husband," she said softly, her voice carrying that smile I loved so much. "How was work?"

I pressed my cheek to her hair, breathing her in. "It was fine."

She turned her head just enough for me to see the curve of her lips. "Dinner will be ready in five."

I nodded, the wordless smile still on my face.

For a moment, I let myself just exist there—holding her, listening to the faint hum of the stove, the sizzle of whatever magic she was making.

It should have been enough. More than enough.

But beneath the warmth, the comfort, the aching rightness of it all, a thought pressed in.

A reminder I couldn't push away.

I only had less than two weeks of this.

Less than two weeks of walking through that door and finding her here. Less than two weeks of hugs from behind, of dinners waiting, of pretending we were already living the life we both wanted.

Then she'd be gone. An ocean away.

And no matter how much I tried to bury it, the truth gnawed at me.

Because if these nights felt this perfect now, I couldn't imagine what it would feel like to lose them.

---

To be continued...

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