By midmorning, Selena had answered the same question seven times.
She knew the number because she had counted them, quietly, in the pauses between keystrokes and mouse clicks.
"Yes, I'm fine."
"No, nothing serious."
"Yes, I went to the hospital."
"No, I'm not dying."
She delivered each answer with the same calm smile, the same even tone, as though repetition might eventually convince everyone, including herself, that it was the full truth. The questions came from different people, in different voices, but they all carried the same thin thread of concern that tugged at her nerves more than she wanted to admit.
By the eighth time someone opened their mouth with that familiar hesitation, she stopped counting.
Martha leaned over her desk, resting her elbows on the edge like she'd settled in for a show. Her grin was wide and unapologetic, the kind that suggested she was enjoying this far too much to pretend otherwise.
"Okay," Martha said, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret, "but hypothetically, purely hypothetically, if you were dying, would you tell us? Or would you just dramatically fade away while filing reports?"
Selena didn't look up from her screen. Her fingers continued moving steadily across the keyboard, clicking through tabs and numbers as though the question required no thought at all.
"If I were dying, Martha," she said flatly, "this is the last place I'd choose to do it."
Martha considered that, tapping her chin. "That's fair," she conceded. "Very depressing vibes. No windows. Bad lighting. Zero ambience."
"Exactly," Selena replied.
Across the aisle, Freddy snorted into his coffee, the sound escaping before he could stop it.
Selena glanced up at him, one eyebrow lifting. "Don't encourage her."
"I'm not encouraging," Freddy said quickly, raising both hands in surrender. "I'm observing."
"Observing what?" Selena asked.
"Chaos," he replied easily, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. "It's been quieter without you."
Martha gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "Wow. Rude."
"Honest," Freddy corrected. "There's a difference."
Selena shook her head, but a small smile crept onto her lips before she could stop it. The tension she'd been carrying since the hospital, tight and constant, like a thread pulled too far, eased just a little. The familiar rhythm of their banter wrapped around her, grounding her in something uncomplicated and ordinary.
It felt… normal.
Comforting.
For a moment, she let herself sink into that feeling, letting the noise of the office and the soft hum of conversation drown out everything else. She turned back to her screen, refocusing on her work, grateful for the distraction.
But before she did, she caught Freddy watching her.
There was nothing dramatic about his expression, no alarm, no curiosity, but something softer, quieter. Concern, maybe. Or relief. Whatever it was, it lingered only a second before he realised she'd noticed.
He looked away quickly, pretending to be very interested in his coffee.
Selena's smile faded into something more thoughtful as she returned her attention to the screen, the warmth of the moment settling gently in her chest.
Normal, she told herself again.
She could live with normal.
***
Adam had not intended to spend the morning within ten feet of Selena's desk.
The plan had been simple. Clear. Sensible. He would remain in his office, review reports, take calls, and keep a respectable distance that would make it easier not to think about hospital rooms, discharge papers, or the way Selena had looked at him when she insisted she was fine.
Intentions, however, rarely survived proximity.
He found himself lingering near the administrative department under the flimsiest of professional pretences, clipboard in hand, gaze drifting far more often than it should have. He told himself he was assessing departmental performance, observing workflow, and noting efficiency. In reality, his attention kept circling back to a single point.
Selena sat at her desk, absorbed in her work.
She looked composed. Relaxed. Her posture was loose, shoulders unknotted, fingers moving swiftly across the keyboard as though nothing had interrupted her routine. She looked exactly like someone who had not been discharged from a hospital less than twenty-four hours ago.
That bothered him more than anything else.
It wasn't relief he felt. Not entirely. It was unease. The kind that came from something not lining up the way it should. People who were nearly hurt usually carried traces of it, hesitation, fatigue, a shadow behind their eyes. Selena carried none of that. If anything, she looked lighter.
Adam didn't know what to make of that.
"Mr Rockwood?"
The voice cut through his thoughts.
Adam blinked, the moment of stillness breaking as he turned toward the department head standing beside him. "Yes."
"The numbers from last quarter," the man began, adjusting the papers in his hand.
"Yes," Adam said too quickly. "Send them to my office."
The department head hesitated, clearly expecting more, then nodded. "Of course, sir."
He left.
Adam did not follow.
He remained where he was, standing just close enough to feel the hum of the department, the quiet buzz of conversation and typing. He hadn't realised how long he'd been still until Selena noticed.
She felt it before she saw him.
The awareness crept up on her, subtle but insistent, like a shift in air pressure. She looked up from her screen, eyebrows lifting slightly as her gaze landed on Adam.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
The question was polite. Neutral. Unassuming.
Adam hesitated.
It was barely noticeable, just a fraction of a second where he considered his words instead of letting them come automatically. He hadn't planned on speaking to her at all, and now that he had her attention, the right thing to say felt oddly elusive.
"Are you settling back in?" he asked finally.
It wasn't the question he'd intended to ask. Not really. But it was the safest one.
She nodded. "Everything's the same as I left it."
Her answer was simple, almost casual. It should have reassured him.
Instead, his gaze dropped, just briefly, to the faint mark on her arm, already fading to nothing. Evidence of the IV. Evidence that she had been somewhere she shouldn't have had to be.
"Good," he said quietly.
The word felt insufficient the moment it left his mouth.
Silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but noticeable. Selena studied him for a second, as though deciding whether to leave it there.
"You know," she added lightly, tilting her head just a bit, "hovering makes people nervous."
"I'm not hovering," Adam replied automatically.
She gave him a look. "You're standing very still and staring."
Martha, who had been pretending very badly not to listen, choked on her coffee.
The sound snapped Adam back into full awareness of where he was and who else was nearby.
He straightened, professionalism sliding back into place like armour. "I'll leave you to it."
"That might be wise," Selena said, her lips twitching.
There was no malice in it. No challenge. Just quiet amusement.
Adam turned and walked away, every step measured, his expression unreadable. He didn't look back.
Behind him, Martha leaned dramatically across Selena's desk, eyes wide with awe. "Wow," she whispered. "You just told the CEO to stop hovering."
Selena shrugged, turning back to her screen. "I asked him politely."
Martha stared at her for a moment longer, then shook her head. "You are either incredibly brave or deeply unaware."
Selena's fingers resumed their steady rhythm on the keyboard. "Probably both."
And somewhere down the corridor, Adam exhaled slowly, already regretting how close he'd let himself get.