Max's office building looked nothing like a place where laughter happened. It was all sharp glass and grey steel, the kind of architecture that tried too hard to say "we mean business." And yet tonight, there were balloons tied to the front desk.
Balloons. At Velasco Corps.
Althea stared at them as she stepped off the elevator and whispered, "Are we sure this isn't a prank?"
Max, walking beside her in a dark navy suit and his usual Velasco calm, replied dryly, "I've asked myself the same question three times."
Inside the conference lounge, things were... lively. For a corporate party.
There was music playing, a playlist clearly assembled by an intern who had no idea what professionalism meant. The table was lined with finger foods that tried to look fancy but tasted suspiciously like high-end cardboard. A whiteboard at the back read "Congratulations, Max Velasco!" in slightly smudged marker with a crooked gold star doodled in the corner.
"Who designed this?" Althea whispered. "A sleep-deprived child?"
Max leaned close and murmured, "Our brand manager's wife. Please don't let her hear you."
Althea clamped her mouth shut, struggling to stifle a laugh. "I take it back. It's perfect."
He looked at her sideways, and for a split second, something in his chest fluttered. She looked radiant. The plum dress hugged her softly without being too much, her hair loosely tied at the back. Elegant, but still very much her. She fit into the room like a secret the walls hadn't earned.
As they stepped inside, a few heads turned. Then came the flood. People congratulated Max with drinks in hand, some with one-armed hugs, others with awkward pats on the shoulder. A tipsy associate manager tried to toast him using a coffee cup. The HR team gave him a handmade card that featured his face photoshopped onto a Greek god.
"Is that supposed to be Apollo?" Max muttered.
"I think it's supposed to be you slaying productivity," Althea said with a completely straight face.
Max nearly choked on his drink.
Someone from marketing launched into a half-sincere speech, only to be interrupted by another colleague accidentally triggering the Bluetooth speaker with their phone and blasting K-pop mid-sentence. It took ten minutes to figure out how to stop it, during which Althea learned two things: Max was universally respected, and absolutely no one in this room knew how to operate technology.
Then came the cake. It was a very fancy rich people chocolate rectangle with the words "Max! You did it!" Again. Scrawled in uneven white icing, and a tiny plastic sword sticking out of the middle like Excalibur.
"They think this is your personality," Althea whispered.
"I'm afraid it is," he whispered back.
She laughed, covering her mouth, and he caught himself watching her again. Noticing things he shouldn't. Like the way her shoulders relaxed around him. The way she'd only talk to interns only if he was beside. Maybe how she felt safe to talk. The way he forgot there were documents on her vanity marked with legal terms like dissolution and division.
For tonight, she was just here. With him.
"Speech!" someone called.
"Yes, speech!" chorused several others, drunk on champagne and end-of-quarter relief.
Max cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Uh… wow. This is… more than I expected. Thank you all for this. I just—"
"—He's crying already!" someone yelled.
"I am not crying," Max said, glaring at the grinning intern in the back, which only made the laughter louder.
Althea couldn't help it; she laughed too, covering her mouth. He shot her a mock glare, which only made her laugh harder.
"I just want to say," he continued, pretending not to notice her giggling, "that I couldn't have done this without a great team… and also…" He hesitated, eyes flicking toward her for the briefest moment. "…without a lot of patience at home. So… thank you."
She gave him a small, teasing bow, and he smiled, openly. That shy, crooked one she rarely saw.
The room softened for a while after that. People drifted to smaller conversations. The interns debated whether Max had ever laughed before this year. Someone tripped over a balloon and launched a platter of shrimp into the air.
Althea found herself beside Max again, holding a glass of wine and snacking on tiny croissants that tasted like regret.
The cake was cut, champagne was poured, and someone started a hilariously competitive game of "Corporate Pictionary" on the whiteboard in the conference room. Althea found herself laughing along with Max's team, especially when his VP drew what was supposed to be a "merger" but looked like two confused worms.
"This is your company culture?" Althea teased, leaning toward Max.
He smirked. "I told you we were terrifying."
"You're all children in suits."
"And yet we run the place."
She laughed again, the sound light and genuine, and Max felt something swell in his chest. He loved seeing her like this; at ease, smiling, a little mischievous. He wanted to keep this version of her forever.
Then the elevator dinged. Sound of footsteps. And everything shifted.
End of Chapter 43.