Long after James had gone.Long after the soft click of the door.
The office was silent again.
Even the emergency lights had dimmed into a sleepy pulse. Beyond the glass windows, the city glowed faintly under a clouded sky—its buzz long quieted, its rhythm softened into something slower, something Elna didn't know how to match. The memory of Neby's voice had faded from the air—but not from her skin.
Elna sat alone.
Not working. Not calculating.
Just… still.
"Aresy," she said quietly, not even looking up.
"Yes, Elna?"
There was no need for formalities now. No performance. No titles.
Just her.
"Would you like me to run final projections for the board meeting, Elna?"
She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed—not in power this time, but to hold herself together. Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling.
"Do you think people know when they're being watched? Not by cameras. By… someone's intent."
A pause.
"I believe people sense when they are being wanted."
Elna inhaled.
"That's the problem," she said. "It's not want. It's need. And when someone needs you for all the wrong reasons, it stops being affection. It becomes a prison."
Aresy remained silent.
Elna stood slowly, walked toward the glass wall again, fingers brushing its cool surface like a habit. This time, she didn't look at the city. Just her reflection—warped, tired, but still upright. Her face still carried that same unshakable expression she wore with James, with Neby—but now it cracked.
Not all the way.
But enough.
"Do you think I'm weak?"
Aresy didn't answer immediately. Then, "I don't believe in such absolutes. Weakness is a transient human state, often confused with emotional exposure."
She snorted. "You make that sound so clean."
"I was designed to process messes. Clean is just what I return."
She stayed quiet for a beat, then said, "He used to be kind, you know. I never meant to mean that much to anyone. I never asked for it."
"You didn't," Aresy said softly.
"I gave kindness. That's all. Just… kindness." Elna swallowed, eyes burning now. "And somehow, he took it like I gave him air."
Her voice broke on the last word.
"You're referring to Director Brohem."
Elna nodded once. "He was… quiet. Driven. He would laugh at my dry sarcasm when no one else did. We used to argue over numbers and coffee temperatures. He never tried to be charming."
Aresy hummed softly in acknowledgment. "And now?"
Elna's eyes hardened.
"Now he wants to own every inch of me that I've worked so hard to keep mine."
She turned, arms falling to her sides. "He used to feel safe, Aresy. And now… he terrifies me in ways I don't even know how to explain."
A long pause.
Then Aresy asked, softly, "And James?"
The question froze her.
Elna's jaw twitched. "James… doesn't terrify me."
She moved to the edge of her desk and sat there, facing the interface like it were something more than a circuit.
"I don't know what he's trying to do. Be kind? Be helpful? Be—something?" She shook her head. "I don't even know if I want it. But it's… there. It's not loud. It's not invasive. It just… sits. Waits."
Aresy blinked. "Like you used to?"
Elna looked up, startled by the statement.
She lowered her head into her hand, the other still wrapped tightly around the edge of her desk.
"I don't know if I'm scared of him," she whispered, "or scared that I wasn't scared earlier."
Silence.
The kind that didn't need to be filled.
When Aresy spoke again, it was barely above a breath. "Would you like me to stay awake tonight?"
Elna didn't answer.
Something in her chest cracked open then. She closed her eyes, just for a moment.
"I think I'm tired, Aresy."
"I know."
"But I can't stop."
"I know that, too."
Elna inhaled deeply, grounding herself on the cool metal beneath her palms. "Do you think he's going to try something again?"
"Statistically… yes."
"And if he does?"
"Then I will be here. And so will James. Even if he doesn't know it yet."
Her fingers curled slightly.
For the first time in hours, she didn't feel like she was drowning in someone else's war.
She was still inside it.
But now, she wasn't entirely alone.
Dawn — The Morning of the Board Meeting
The city had begun to wake.
Screens blinked on in the towers across from her. Airbuses hummed past at cruising altitude. Somewhere down the corridor, the vending machine rebooted with its usual static chirp.
But Elna hadn't moved.
She stood at the glass wall, still in yesterday's clothes. The lamp on her desk flickered once, then stilled. Aresy now rested, dim and silent—her last tether to the night.
Elna's hand touched the window like it might push through.
And her thoughts returned, quiet but unrelenting.
The walls weren't crashing down.
They were closing in—brick by brick, laid by him.
He wasn't waiting anymore.
He was building it again.
And if she didn't find a way out now…
She'd be sealed inside with him forever.
She blinked slowly, then turned from the window.
Her blazer lay folded on the chair.
She slipped into it like armor.
A glance at the dark display confirmed it: time to go.
She didn't check her reflection.
She didn't rehearse her script.
She walked toward the door like a soldier marching toward the frontlines—quiet, resolved, and absolutely unreadable.
Click.
The elevator pinged two floors below.
A new day had begun.
And she was going to walk into that boardroom like none of it touched her.
Because whatever storm Neby had prepared—
She would not drown in it. At the same time, something big had already begun waiting for her patiently.