Lily's retreat was stiff, her heels clicking against the floor with false confidence, each step louder than the last—as if she thought noise could cover her loss. The moment she disappeared around the corridor corner, the invisible audience scattered too. Quiet whispers darted through cubicles like moths flitting toward gossip. Heads ducked. Monitors lit back up.
The performance was over—for now.
Melisa didn't acknowledge them. She barely blinked, her gaze lowered to her screen, where a half-finished sentence blinked back at her like a question left unanswered.
Her fingers resumed their dance over the keys, but her thoughts had already drifted.
Jenny… sitting beside Lily. Laughing. Inviting her over.
Of all people.
She should have seen it coming.
Jenny had never picked a side. She had always floated in between—cordial, pleasant, but distant. A friendly coffee, the occasional inside joke, a shared sigh over deadlines—but never anything more. Never anything real.
