PART 2:

The click of the lighter, the first drag, the slow exhale. Her shoulders dropped half an inch, and then Daniel stood up. Victoria’s eyes flicked toward him. It was 4:47 p.m. early, even by normal standards. “Miss Hail,” he said, his voice steady. I need to leave early today. Her hand froze. 3 years. Not once. Something wrong? She asked.

No, he adjusted his watch. The cigarette burned between her fingers. A date. The word echoed in her skull like a bell she couldn’t unring. Victoria stared at him, searched his face for irony, for humor, for anything that would explain why her chest suddenly felt like it was being crushed.

But Daniel’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t apologizing. He was simply stating a fact. And somehow that made it worse. A date? She repeated her voice flat. With someone, Daniel’s brow furrowed slightly. That’s generally how dates work. She wanted to ask who, where, when did this happen? How long had this been going on? But the questions felt too personal, too revealing.

So instead, she said nothing. She took another drag from her cigarette, slower this time, and let the silence stretch. Daniel waited. He was good at waiting. Finally, Victoria forced herself to speak. Go ahead. Thank you. He picked up his bag, leather worn at the edges, and walked toward the door. Victoria watched him go, and the moment the door clicked shut, something inside her collapsed.

She stubbed out the cigarette with more force than necessary. Her hands were shaking. Daniel’s footsteps faded down the hallway. Victoria sat alone in her office, staring at the half burned cigarette in the ashtray. She told herself to let it go. Told herself it didn’t matter. told herself that Daniel’s personal life was none of her business, but her mind wouldn’t stop.

Who was she? Was it someone from the office? No. Daniel never mixed work and personal life. Someone he’d met online, at a gym, through friends? Did he have friends? Victoria realized with a nauseating clarity that she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything. For three years, Daniel had been the most reliable person in her life.

He knew her schedule better than she did. Knew when she needed coffee, when she needed silence, when she needed someone to simply handle things without being asked, but she’d never once asked him about himself. She’d treated him like a function, a tool. And now he was walking out the door to meet someone who probably knew his favorite movie.

his childhood stories. The way he laughed when he wasn’t being professional. Victoria’s chest tightened. This wasn’t anger. It was panic. She stood abruptly, grabbed her coat, and walked to the window. 14 floors below. Daniel emerged from the building. He checked his phone, smiled at something on the screen, and started walking toward the parking garage.

Victoria’s pulse hammered. She imagined him meeting someone. A woman with an easy laugh and no walls. Someone who didn’t make him keep his coffee mug hidden. Someone who asked questions and actually listened to the answers. The image made her feel sick. Before she could talk herself out of it, Victoria grabbed her purse and headed for the elevator.

She caught up with him in the lobby. Daniel, he turned, surprised. Miss Hail, she didn’t have a plan. didn’t have an excuse, but she couldn’t let him leave. Not like this. I She stopped, swallowed. I need to ask you something. Daniel’s expression shifted, curious, cautious. Of course. Victoria’s hand tightened around her purse strap. And then, before she could stop herself, she reached out and caught his wrist.

Daniel Frazza. Victoria’s fingers were wrapped around his wrist. not tight, but firm enough that he couldn’t move without pulling away deliberately. Her pulse was visible at her throat. “Miss Hail,” he said carefully. “What’s wrong?” She didn’t let go. For a long moment, she just stood there, breathing too fast, looking at him like she was trying to solve a problem she didn’t have the equation for.

Finally, she spoke. “Why haven’t you ever asked me out?” The question hit the air like a stone through glass. Daniel blinked. What? You heard me. Her voice was quiet, strained. 3 years, Daniel. You’ve been You’ve been right there every day. And you never She stopped, shook her head. I don’t understand, she said.

And for the first time since he’d known her. Victoria Hail sounded lost. Daniel’s throat went dry. This was the woman who’d stared down hostile board members without flinching, who’d negotiated multi-million dollar deals with the calm of someone ordering coffee. And now she was standing in front of him, trembling, asking him why he’d never crossed a line she’d spent 3 years reinforcing.

“You never wanted that,” he said quietly. “How do you know what I wanted?” Her voice cracked. “Did you ever ask?” “No,” he exhaled. because you made it very clear that personal questions weren’t part of the job. Victoria flinched. That’s not She let go of his wrist, stepped back. That’s not what I meant.

Then what did you mean? She pressed her fingers to her temples. I don’t know. I just Her eyes met his. I thought maybe you didn’t see me that way. Like I was just the job, the title, nothing else. Daniel stared at her. Three years of silence, three years of carefully maintained distance. And now, all at once, the truth was spilling out in a fluorescent lit lobby where anyone could walk by.

“You think I don’t see you?” he said, his voice low. Victoria’s breath hitched. “I see you everyday, Victoria.” He’d never used her first name before. It felt dangerous. Necessary. I see when you’re exhausted, when you’re frustrated, when you’re pretending everything’s fine because you think showing weakness will cost you.

Her eyes widened. I see all of it, he continued. But I also see the walls and I respected them. Because that’s what you needed. What if? She stopped, swallowed. What if I don’t need them anymore? The question hung between them. Daniel’s chest achd. Then you should have said something,” he said gently.

“Before I made plans with someone else,” Victoria’s face went pale. Daniel pulled out his phone. “Here,” he said, turning the screen toward her. Victoria looked down. It was a text message. “Lucas, Dad, don’t forget.” Six, you promised. Below it, a photo, a handdrawn birthday invitation covered in crayon stars and misspelled words.

Victoria’s breath stopped. Your son? Yes. Daniel pocketed the phone. His name is Lucas. He turned 8 today. I promised I’d take him to dinner. The world tilted. Victoria felt heat flood her face. Shame, relief, confusion, all crashing together. You have a son, she said faintly. I do. I didn’t know. You never asked. The words weren’t cruel. Just factual.

And they cut deeper than any anger could have. Victoria covered her mouth with one hand. God, Daniel, I’m so sorry, I thought. I know what you thought. He studied her. And I understand why, but Victoria, you’ve worked with me for 3 years. You know my schedule down to the minute. You know how I take my coffee, but you’ve never once asked me about my life outside this building.

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