Adrian's pov
Mornings used to mean comfort: the sound of a kettle, the smell of toast, the reliable architecture of routine Mornings Now they start with the click of a pill bottle sharp and final as a lock turning.
Adele sits at the kitchen table in her robe, hands wrapped around a mug she hasn't touched. Steam curls upward and vanishes before it reaches her face,Her fingernails, pale crescents against the ceramic, tap out an irregular rhythm. Once, twice. Stop. Once more.
"You didn't sleep," I said. It's not a question. The skin beneath her eyes has that bruised quality that comes from nights spent watching the ceiling fan turn in the dark.
"I did," she answers, voice soft, distant
The light filtering through the blinds turns her skin almost translucent. She's beautiful in that fragile way like a flame that could gutter out if I breathe too close.
I pour my coffee, trying not to watch the way she tilts the pills into her palm. Two blue, one white. She hesitates, then swallows them dry.
"Did the dreams come back?" I asked though I already know. I can read it in the tension of her shoulders, the way she holds herself together like a person bracing for impact.
She looks up slowly, her eyes bright but unfocused. "They never leave, Adrian. They just wait."
A chill moves down my spine. I forced a small smile. "Try the breathing exercise I showed you. It helps slow the pulse."
She shakes her head. "Your exercises are for your patients, not for wives."
"I only want you steady." My voice comes out rougher than intended
"I am steady." She said it with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes,"You just don't believe it."
Silence presses between us, familiar and heavy.
On the counter, the morning mail lies unopened. A pale envelope with my clinic's letterhead sits on top,some report I was too tired to read last night. My life, stacked neatly and waiting for review.
"I'll be home for dinner," I tell her, checking my watch.
"You always say that."
"I mean it this time."
Her gaze drifts past me to the window where rain traces faint lines down the glass. "You smell like gin."
The cup stops halfway to my lips. "I had one drink with a colleague."
"Of course," she says lightly, turning the mug in her hands. "Just… be careful, Adrian. People notice things."
There's something in her tone,too gentle to be a threat, too exact to be casual.
"I'll call you at lunch," I say.
She nods, but as I step into the hall, I hear her whisper,soft, almost playful,
"Make sure you lock your office door today."
The words follow me out of the house like a shadow.
The rain had quieted to a low whisper by the time I reached the clinic. Inside, the air was warm, thick with the scent of disinfectant and faint lavender,Adele's favorite.
The receptionist—Deb, according to her nameplate—greets me with a bright smile. "Dr. Shaw! Welcome. Let me show you around."
She's efficient, warm, the kind of person who makes new situations feel less daunting. She introduces me to the staff, shows me the layout, explains the systems.
"And this is our administrative hub," she says, leading me into an open office area. "These are the folks who keep everything running."
Several people look up, smiling, offering waves.
Then I see her.
Lena.
She's standing by a desk, a file in her hands, wearing a navy blouse and looking every bit the professional I didn't meet last night.
Time stops.
Her eyes widen—shock, then panic, then something that looks like horror.
"And this is Lena Rivers," Deb continues, oblivious. "She's been with us for two years. Honestly, she keeps this whole place running."
My mouth has gone dry.
Two years. She's worked here for two years.
Which means she knew. Last night, when I mentioned starting somewhere new, she could have said something. Could have stopped it.
But she didn't.
Neither did I.
I force myself to step forward, to extend my hand like we're strangers meeting for the first time.
"Ms. Rivers," I say, my voice carefully neutral. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Her hand trembles slightly when she takes mine. I release it quickly, before Deb can notice.
"Welcome to Westfield, Dr. Shaw," Lena says, her voice barely steady.
"I look forward to working with you," I reply, the words tasting like ash.
Then I turn to Deb. "Shall we continue?"
My office is spacious, well-lit, with a view of the tree-lined street below. It should feel like an accomplishment.
Instead, it feels like a trap.
I close the door and lean against it, exhaling slowly.
I shouldn't have kissed her.
I know that. But knowledge doesn't undo action.
There's a soft knock. My secretary leans in, holding my morning mail. "Also, Dr. Shaw," she says, "your wife called earlier. She asked if you could come home for lunch. She didn't sound well."
Adele.
"Thank you," I say. "I'll call her back shortly."
She leaves. The door clicks shut again.
I stare at my desk, at the unopened letters, and try not to picture Lena's face when I said her name.
What are the odds? I've met thousands of people. And somehow, the woman I kissed in a dark bar now works under my supervision.
Then I open a new contact and type in a number I memorized from the staff directory Deb gave me.
Lena Rivers.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard.
This is a line I shouldn't cross.
But I've already crossed it, haven't I?
I type quickly, before I can second-guess myself.
We need to talk,tonight after everyone leaves,my office.
I set the phone down and try to focus on unpacking, on reviewing files, on anything that isn't the memory of her mouth on mine.
The phone buzzes.
Lena : sure.
She steps inside, closing the door behind her. For a moment, we just look at each other.
"You didn't tell me you worked here," I say finally.
"You didn't ask where." Her voice is quiet, defensive. "You said you were starting somewhere new. I didn't know it was here."
"Would it have mattered?"
She hesitates. "Yes."
"So," "do you make a habit of keeping your employees after hours, or am I special?"
"You're special," I said before I could stop myself.
Her smile faltered. "You don't even know me."
"Maybe not," I said quietly. "But it feels like I do."
She set the cup down. "Your office looks like you live here."
"Sometimes I do."
"Because of work?"
"Because home doesn't always feel like home."
I nodded once, feeling the weight settle. "Adele… she's complicated."
Lena gave a quiet laugh. "Aren't we all?"
"She's not what people think she is," I said, voice low. "There's this… distance. Like she's there, but not really."
Something flickered in Lena's gaze sympathy, maybe curiosity. "You love her?"
The question shouldn't have been asked , and yet, I didn't have the strength to lie.
"I don't know anymore."
She looked at me like she could see right through the practiced calm, the layers I'd built over years. "That's… sad," she said softly.
"What about you?" I asked. "You wear loneliness like you've gotten used to it."
She laughed quietly, no humor in it. "Single mom. Used to it? Maybe. Surviving? Definitely."
Our eyes met again , steady, searching, dangerous.
For a long moment, no one moved. The air between us was charged, heavy with everything we weren't saying.
"Lena," I murmured.
She shook her head. "Don't."
But she didn't step back.
The clock ticked louder, or maybe it was my pulse. The coffee on the desk went cold.
Then she whispered, "Sometimes it's nice to be seen."
Her hand brushed mine , light, trembling, real.
Then,as if pulled by gravity I leaned in slow,hesitant until my lips barely grazed hers
It wasn't a hungry kiss it was soft and uncertain.when I finally pulled away Lena eyes were still closed.
I exhaled stepping back as if I'd just remember where we were
"I shouldn't have" I said my voice unsteady
"I know"she said her finger tightened around the coffee cup "but I didn't stop you"
Then my phone vibrated
I didn't want to check but I already knew who it was
Adele:you stayed late tonight you promised you'd be back for dinner…where are you ?
Lena noticed the shift in my face. "Your wife?"
"Yes."
She nodded, understanding but saying nothing.
I stood, slipping the phone into my pocket. "I have to go."
"Of course." Her voice was quiet, careful. "Thank you for the coffee."
As I turned to leave, I hesitated. "Lena…"
She looked up.
I almost said this was a mistake, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I said, "Get home safe."
She smiled faintly. "You too, Adrian."