Anaya didn't get distracted.
Ever.
She worked.
She planned.
She executed.
Simple.
So when she read the same line three times and still didn't process it—
She stopped.
Closed the file.
And leaned back in her chair.
"Annoying," she muttered.
Because she knew exactly why.
—
The council office was quiet that afternoon.
Papers stacked neatly.
Laptop open.
Pen tapping lightly against the desk.
She picked up the file again.
Tried to focus.
Didn't.
Her mind drifted.
Back to the debate.
Back to the message.
Back to that one line—
I always do.
She exhaled sharply.
"This is unnecessary."
Across the room, the door opened.
She didn't need to look up.
She knew.
"You look irritated," he said.
"I am."
"Why?"
"Because I'm distracted."
That surprised him.
"You?"
"Yes."
"By what?"
She closed the file again.
"You."
Silence.
That wasn't planned.
That wasn't strategic.
That just… slipped out.
His expression didn't change immediately.
But something in his eyes did.
Shifted.
Sharpened.
"You're blaming me?" he asked calmly.
"I'm identifying the problem."
"That's not very objective."
"It is when the variable is consistent."
That almost made him smile.
"You're overanalyzing."
"I don't overanalyze."
"You just said you were distracted."
She looked at him properly now.
"I don't get distracted."
"And now you are."
"Yes."
Another pause.
This one heavier.
Because now—
It wasn't unspoken anymore.
He stepped slightly closer to the desk.
"Why?"
That question landed differently.
Not challenging.
Not teasing.
Direct.
She held his gaze.
"Because things changed."
"How?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Because she didn't have a clean answer.
That irritated her more.
"You didn't argue to win yesterday," she said instead.
"You noticed that."
"Yes."
"And that bothers you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
She paused again.
Then said it—
Honestly.
"Because I don't know what that means."
Silence.
The kind that didn't feel tense.
Just real.
He looked at her for a moment longer.
Then—
"It means I wasn't trying to defeat you."
She frowned slightly.
"That doesn't explain it."
"No."
"Then what does?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because this wasn't strategy anymore.
And he wasn't rushing it.
"It means…" he said slowly,
"…I didn't see you as someone I needed to beat."
That—
That changed something.
Subtle.
But real.
Anaya didn't look away.
Didn't react dramatically.
But her fingers tightened slightly around the pen in her hand.
"That's new," she said quietly.
"Yes."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then she stood up.
"I have work to do."
It sounded normal.
But it wasn't.
She walked past him toward the door.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Controlled.
But the air between them had changed.
And both of them knew it.
—
Across campus, Kiara watched the council updates on her screen.
Then glanced out the window.
Something felt different.
She couldn't see it yet.
But she could feel it.
And that made her uneasy.
Because shifts like this—
Didn't stay hidden for long.