Noah told himself not to worry. She'd said she had errands to run, contacts to meet, loose ends to tie up. She'd be back when she was ready.
He pushed the thought aside, heading toward the administrative wing where Sophie had claimed an office. The space was practical rather than luxurious—desk, chairs, holographic displays for contract management. But Sophie had added small touches that made it hers. A plant in the corner that somehow survived despite the building's recycled air. Photos from their academy days pinned to a corkboard.
She was on a call when he entered, her voice professional as she negotiated terms with someone on the other end. Noah waited, leaning against the wall, watching her work.
She was good at this. Better than good. She navigated faction politics and settlement bureaucracy with the same ease she'd shown leading military operations. When she finally ended the call, she looked up at him with a smile that made his chest warm.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey."
