I didn't think too much about it—the almost-kiss. Because really, it didn't happen. Nothing happened. And I wasn't going to let myself get stuck on something that didn't.

So I pushed it down and threw myself into work instead.

It was Saturday afternoon, sunlight slipping through the blinds onto my bed. My laptop was open, pages of notes scattered around. I typed a little, erased more, and tried again. The room was too quiet except for the steady hum of the fan. Derrick wasn't crazy enough to throw a party when the next day meant work, which meant I had to create any excuse to distract myself. So it's just me, my thoughts, and the silence I was pretending not to notice.

Then my phone rang.

Val's name lit up the screen. Instantly, I smiled.

I picked up, and her face filled the screen.

"Husband," she said, grinning the way only she could.

I felt my chest loosen just hearing her voice. "It's probably night over there, yeah? So… good evening?"

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good evening."

For a moment, we just looked at each other. No words. Just… there. And that's when I felt it. That tiny crack. Long distance—no matter how much we loved each other—it left space for silences like this.

She noticed, I think. Because she smiled softer, almost knowingly, and said, "We really don't have to have something to talk about, you know. Just seeing your face is enough for me."

I forced a smile back. "Yeah. You're right. It's not like we were talking all the time when you were here, anyway."

> "Exactly."

Then came the silence again. Not long. Not heavy. Just enough to feel strange.

I cleared my throat. "I should probably get back to what I was working on."

She nodded quickly. "Yeah. I also have to study."

She kissed the screen before hanging up.

And just like that, the call ended.

The quiet that followed felt different this time. Weird. Sad. A mix of things that didn't feel like us.

---

After the call ended, I just sat there staring at the screen of my laptop. The silence felt louder than it had before. I told myself not to overthink it, that this was normal. Long distance wasn't supposed to be smooth. There were bound to be awkward pauses, missed timings, stretches of quiet where you didn't know what else to say.

"This will pass," I muttered under my breath. "It has to."

Val and I had been through worse right? We'd... faced emotional turning points, family drama, finals week chaos, and still came out stronger. A couple of weird calls wasn't going to ruin what we had. I had to believe that.

My phone buzzed.

I picked it up, half-hoping it was Val again. But no. A single word blinked back at me on the screen:

Hey

From Tasha.

I froze, staring at it.

First thought—how the hell did she even get my number? Then it hit me. She was my team leader. She probably had access to contact info in the system. Still… she never used it until now.

The second thought that came was worse. The near-kiss. That split-second where I almost leaned in. I shoved it down fast, refusing to replay it.

I typed back:

Good afternoon.

A beat. Then her reply came in:

I was working on something and I kinda am stuck.

I narrowed my eyes. It looked harmless, but it didn't feel harmless. My gut told me this was a setup.

I tapped out a short answer:

Okay.

Another pause. Then her next text dropped:

I probably have the right to make you come over so we can work on it together right?

I leaned back, shaking my head. A trap. It was too obvious. If this had happened months ago, maybe I wouldn't have thought twice. I would've believed it was just work. But now? After the glances she'd been stealing, after the backyard almost-kiss? I wasn't dumb.

So I typed back:

What happens if I decline?

It took a little longer this time, but the reply came.

Then I'll just come over. Your address is also on your profile.

My stomach dropped.

A second later, another bubble popped up:

Strictly to work.

I rubbed my face with both hands. Strictly to work. Right. Sure.

I thought about ignoring it. About blocking her number and moving on. But if she really had my address, she'd probably show up anyway. And that would be worse.

So I gave in.

Sure. You can come over.

Her reply was almost instant:

On my way.

I dropped my phone on the couch and groaned. "What the hell is happening?"

My mind went back to all those stolen looks, the way her eyes lingered longer than they should have during meetings, the too-friendly smiles, the subtle favorism she's been playing at. And then last night. That moment when we almost—when I almost—

I shook it off. No. Not going there.

The screen was still lit when I turned it over again. My eyes landed on my wallpaper—Val's face, smiling back at me. I'd set it as my background the second week after she left, when the distance started to ache. Just seeing her smile there steadied me.

I stared at it for a long moment. And somehow, like the picture alone carried enough reason, my fingers moved. I typed out a quick message and sent it—not to Val, not to Tasha. To someone else.

Just in case.

Twenty, maybe thirty minutes passed before a knock sounded at the door.

I got up, dragging my feet to answer it and there she was.

Tasha stood in front of me, dressed casual. Sweatshirt, jeans, a backpack slung over her shoulder. She smiled like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I muttered, stepping aside.

She walked in, dropped her bag on the couch, and pulled out her laptop. I sat down next to her, watching as she set it on the table.

We didn't get further than that because another knock came at the door.

I shot her a quick look. "Give me a second."

I walked over and pulled it open.

Trent.

He leaned against the frame, smirking like he'd just walked into a joke only he understood.

Relief rushed through me before I could stop it. I let out a long exhale, something that wasn't quite a laugh, wasn't quite a sigh.

Because this—Trent showing up right now—meant safety.

---

To be continued...

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