The office buzzed louder than usual the next morning. Phones rang, printers chattered, and voices overlapped in the wide-open space of Mercer & Co. Architects. Elena slipped through it all with her usual composure, balancing a folder under one arm, coffee in her other hand, and a mental list of fifteen tasks still to complete before noon.
Her armor was back in place blazer sharp, hair smooth, expression calm. If anyone noticed the exhaustion tucked beneath her eyes, no one mentioned it. That was the thing about always being dependable: people stopped asking if you were okay.
"Elena."
She paused outside Daniel Mercer's office, hand still on the doorknob. He was at his desk, phone pressed to his ear, brow furrowed. He gestured for her to wait. She stepped inside quietly, setting his coffee down before taking her usual post near the bookshelf.
Daniel ended the call, his jaw easing as his gaze fell on her. "You read my mind."
"You looked like you needed it."
He leaned back in his chair, fingers curling around the cup. "You always notice." His eyes lingered on her a fraction too long, softer than they should have been. "That's rare."
Elena shifted her weight. Compliments from Daniel always carried a weight she didn't know how to hold. She cleared her throat. "There are changes in the Kensington project proposal. Do you want me to schedule a review with the design team?"
"Yes," he said, though his eyes hadn't moved from her face. "But not until after lunch. And, Elena"
She froze at the quiet edge in his voice.
"Make sure you take a lunch break today."
Her lips parted, surprise flickering before she could mask it. He knew her routines too well. "I'll try."
"Not try," Daniel corrected gently. "Do."
Something warm spread through her chest, unwelcome and unsteady. She nodded quickly and escaped into the hallway, clutching the folder as if it could shield her from the weight of being seen.
By noon, she had no intention of following his order. Work pressed in from every side, her desk drowning in contracts and unanswered emails. She reached for her pen, but a shadow fell across her desk.
Adrian Cole.
He leaned a hand on her desk, his grin lazy, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Let me guess you're skipping lunch again."
Elena didn't look up. "I don't recall inviting you into my schedule."
"You don't invite anyone in, do you?" His tone was teasing, but the words were sharp enough to make her flinch.
She set her pen down deliberately, finally meeting his gaze. "Mr. Cole"
"Adrian," he corrected smoothly.
"Fine. Adrian. Don't you have work to do?"
"I do," he admitted, leaning closer, lowering his voice. "But watching you bury yourself under everyone else's work is more entertaining."
She stiffened. "This is how things get done."
"Or," he said, his smile tilting dangerously, "this is how you make sure no one ever has to take care of you. If you're busy saving everyone else, no one gets close enough to save you."
Her throat tightened. Twice in two days, two different men had carved into the truth she tried so hard to bury. Daniel's question had been gentle, like a hand extended. Adrian's words were reckless, like a match struck too close to her skin.
She gathered her papers, shoving them into a folder. "I don't need saving."
Adrian straightened, his grin softening into something unreadable. "Maybe not. But you need something."
He left before she could answer, his presence lingering like the aftertaste of spice unsettling, impossible to ignore.
By late afternoon, Daniel called her into his office again. She carried the updated Kensington documents, determined to keep her composure.
But when she entered, Daniel wasn't behind his desk. He stood by the window, city light spilling around him. He turned as she closed the door, his expression unreadable.
"Sit," he said gently.
She obeyed, smoothing her skirt, clutching the folder like a lifeline.
"Elena," Daniel began, his voice steady, "you're one of the most capable people I've ever worked with. This firm runs because of you."
Her chest tightened. "Thank you."
"But," he continued, stepping closer, "capable doesn't mean invincible. You push yourself past exhaustion every day. You don't ask for help. You don't let anyone in. That's not sustainable."
She looked down, heat rushing to her cheeks. "It's not your concern."
"It is," he countered softly. "Because I see you. And because I care."
The words hit harder than she expected. She lifted her gaze, startled by the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, she almost believed she could let herself lean into that steadiness, that safety.
But then, unbidden, Adrian's voice echoed in her mind: Maybe you just like pretending you don't need anyone.
Two men. Two truths. Both pulling at the cracks in her armor.
She swallowed, forcing her voice steady. "We should focus on Kensington."
Daniel studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He took the folder from her hands, his fingers brushing hers again light, deliberate, sparking warmth that lingered long after she left the room.
That night, Elena sat at her kitchen table, papers spread in front of her, untouched dinner cooling on the counter. She stared at the words but couldn't see them.
Her mind replayed the day in pieces: Daniel's calm insistence, Adrian's bold intrusion, the way both had managed to touch something inside her she'd buried so deeply she'd almost forgotten it was there.
The weight of wanting pressed heavier than ever. Wanting to be seen. To be cared for. To be more than strong.
But fire burned on one side of her, shelter waited on the other and Elena knew, with a sudden clarity that stole her breath, that she could not stand in the middle forever.