The fundraiser flyers were stacked neatly by the door, ready for distribution. The office was quiet except for the hum of the heater and the scratch of Elena's pen as she signed thank-you notes.
It was past midnight. Mira had left hours ago, muttering about needing "at least some sleep to stay fabulous."
Elena thought Adrian would've gone too, but he was still there — leaning back in his chair, tie discarded, eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
"You don't have to stay," she said without looking up.
"I know."
The answer unsettled her more than if he'd argued.
---
Sparks from Silence
Minutes stretched. She could feel him watching her, the way he always used to when she studied — like he was memorizing her concentration. Finally, she set the pen down.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly.
"The fundraiser?"
"All of it. The center. Staying late. Sitting here with me when you'd rather be anywhere else."
He leaned forward, forearms braced on his knees. "You think I'd rather be anywhere else?"
Her throat went dry. "Wouldn't you?"
His eyes burned into hers, steady and unflinching. "No."
The word thudded in the air between them. Elena's pulse raced, her chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid.
---
Breaking Point
"You shouldn't look at me like that," she whispered.
"Like what?"
"Like you still…" Her voice faltered. She shook her head. "You don't get to."
Adrian stood, closing the distance in two strides. His presence towered over her, but his voice was low, raw.
"You think I don't fight it every damn second?"
Her breath hitched. "Then stop looking."
"Then stop being here."
"I can't," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "This place… these kids… I can't walk away."
He searched her face, his expression caught between anger and something far more dangerous. His hand lifted as if to touch her cheek, fingers trembling — then stopped an inch away.
The space between them vibrated with the possibility of what neither dared admit.
---
Almost
"Elena…" His voice cracked.
Her chest tightened, everything inside her screaming to close the distance, to fall into the warmth of what they'd once had.
But then his hand dropped, curling into a fist at his side. He stepped back, jaw clenched. "We can't."
She swallowed hard, blinking back tears. "I know."
The silence that followed wasn't sharp this time. It was worse — heavy, aching, fragile.
Adrian turned away, gathering his jacket without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Elena in the dim office with nothing but her racing heart and the echo of almost.