(Elara POV)
The food arrives without a word.One moment my desk is empty, the next there's a neatly packed container placed beside my keyboard.
I look up. Mr. Hale is already walking away.
"I have a call," he says over his shoulder. "Eat. It'll be cold by the time I'm done."
That's it. No explanation. No question.
I stare at the container for a few seconds longer than necessary.
I shouldn't accept it. I know that.But my stomach twists painfully, reminding me that instant noodles last night don't count as a proper meal.
So I open it. The smell alone makes my throat tighten. I eat quietly, carefully, like someone might take it away if I'm not fast enough.
I keep my eyes on my screen.Schedules change that afternoon.
Deadlines shift. A client call gets pushed back. Small adjustments, barely noticeable to anyone else.But I notice."You moved the review," I say softly when I hand him the updated calendar.
"Yes."
No explanation again.
I nod and return to my desk.Vivienne stops by not long after.
"You're getting a lot of attention lately," she says, her tone light, almost friendly.
"I'm just doing my work," I reply.
She smiles. "That's what everyone says."She leans closer, lowering her voice.
"Attention can be temporary," she adds. "People in power don't like surprises."
I swallow. "I understand."
She straightens, smile still in place. "Good."
When she leaves, the air around my desk feels colder. That night, I leave later than usual. The food container is gone. Mr. Hale's office door is closed. The floor is quiet.On the subway home, I replay the day in my head.The food.The schedule changes.The way he didn't look at me when he spoke.It doesn't mean anything.
I know better than to think it does. I unlock my apartment, step inside, and drop my bag by the door.
Dinner is whatever I can find. I eat standing up, staring at the wall, forcing myself not to think.Because naming things makes them real.
And I can't afford real.