Chapter 2 of Love After Loss, continuing Emma's journey as she takes her first fragile steps back into the world.
Chapter 2: Coffee and Unspoken Things
The office didn't feel the same.
Emma stepped through the glass doors of Halstead Publishing, greeted by the familiar scent of coffee, printer paper, and something vaguely citrusy—probably the air freshener the cleaning staff used. It had only been six months, but everything felt like it had shifted slightly, as if the world had turned while she stood still.
Her coworkers smiled politely, some nodding with a mix of empathy and discomfort. No one quite knew what to say to the woman who had lost her husband. She didn't blame them. What could they say that hadn't already been said in sympathy cards and awkward phone calls?
Her desk was just as she'd left it. Claire, who sat across from her, had kept it dusted, even watered the tiny succulent James had given her for their second anniversary. Emma noticed it had grown. Funny, how some things kept growing even in the absence of light.
Claire leaned over gently. "You doing okay?"
Emma nodded. "Trying to be."
Claire smiled with that kind of quiet support only a real friend can give. "That's enough."
The hours passed in fits. Emma tried to focus on manuscript notes, redlines, plot arcs, and grammar, but her mind kept drifting. Every character felt like a ghost. Every happy ending felt far away. Still, she stayed. She read. She edited. She answered emails.
It wasn't until lunch that something shifted.
She wandered into the breakroom, trying to avoid small talk, but someone was already there—someone she hadn't expected.
Noah.
He was newer to the team, a marketing strategist with an easy smile and quiet eyes. Emma had barely spoken to him before the accident. He had joined a few months before James passed, and their interactions had been minimal—a few shared meetings, hallway nods, one comment about her favorite author when he noticed a book on her desk.
Today, he looked up from his coffee, and something in his gaze stopped her.
Not pity. Not discomfort.
Just… presence.
"Hey," he said softly. "Welcome back."
"Thanks," she replied, surprised by how steady her voice sounded.
He moved aside so she could grab her tea. For a moment, the silence between them wasn't heavy—it was calm.
"I read your notes on the Lambert proposal," he said. "You have a good eye. They were smart. Clean."
Emma blinked. "You… read them?"
He shrugged, sipping from his mug. "I'm trying to learn more about editorial. Yours stood out."
No one had complimented her work in months. Not because it wasn't good—but because no one wanted to talk about work when her world had shattered.
She nodded, unsure of what to say. "Thanks. That… means a lot."
There was a pause, but it wasn't awkward.
"I'm around if you need anything," Noah said. "Or if you just want someone to sit with in the breakroom and not talk."
Emma smiled, a small thing, but real. "I might take you up on that."
Back at her desk, she sat a little straighter.
Maybe grief wasn't something you got over. Maybe it was something you carried. But maybe, just maybe, someone could help you carry it. Even if only for a few minutes at a time.