Early Monday morning, after countless meetings and unrelenting stress, Andrew stood in his office long after everyone else had left, the skyline glowing beyond the glass walls like something unreachable. His jacket lay forgotten on the chair. His tie was undone, shirt sleeves rolled back, phone heavy in his hand.
No response.
He told himself it didn't mean anything.
She was busy. She always was.
But the silence pressed into him, slow and suffocating.
He hadn't meant for it to go that far.
That was the lie he kept telling himself.
He hadn't meant to sound final. Hadn't meant to ask her to leave like that. But the words had come out sharper than he'd intended, fueled by something ugly and unfamiliar clawing at his chest.
Jealousy.
He hated that word.
He hated what it reduced him to.
Andrew had always been controlled. Strategic. He didn't react; he calculated. He didn't lash out; he waited. But Bella had slipped past every defense he'd ever built, and now the cost of that was standing alone in his office that suddenly felt far too empty.
He typed again, slower this time.
I didn't handle things well.
The message sat unsent for nearly a minute.
Then he deleted it.
Apologies felt like surrender.
Instead, he sent something safer.
"Work's been insane. Just checking in, I really miss you.
Bella saw that one too.
She was on her lunch break, sitting on the low steps outside her studio with a takeaway juice and burger between her palms. The afternoon sun warmed her skin, but the message made her shoulders stiffen.
"Just checking in.
She let out a short, humorless laugh.
He wanted reassurance without responsibility. No.
She slid the phone into her bag and stood up, dusting off her jeans. If Andrew wanted access to her life again, he was going to have to do more than test the waters with half-questions.
Inside the studio, Luke's name came up on her computer screen as a scheduled call reminder for later that afternoon.
Work. Actual work. Not feelings masquerading as confusion.
That was something she could handle, real work, not emotional chaos.
Back in the penthouse, Andrew paced.
The silence from her was louder than any argument they'd ever had.
He replayed the night over and over, catching every moment he'd ignored in real time, the way she'd gone still when he told her to leave. The way she hadn't argued. Hadn't begged. Had simply nodded and walked away like someone who knew when a door was closing.
That scared him more than if she'd fought back.
Because Bella didn't chase what didn't serve her.
And he'd just pushed himself dangerously close to that line.
Luke.
That name, unwelcome and persistent.
Andrew had dismissed him as insignificant, but now he saw the mistake in that arrogance. Luke was patient. Present. He didn't demand more than Bella was willing to give.
And that made him dangerous.
Andrew's phone buzzed suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts.
For half a second, hope flared.
Then he saw the name.
Not Bella.
His fingers tightened around the device.
The realization hit him sharply, suddenly, and undeniably.
He hadn't just crossed a line. He'd handed Luke an opening.
By letting anger speak louder than restraint, by pretending indifference when he felt anything but, he'd turned himself into the very thing Bella hated most, someone who tried to claim what wasn't freely given.
And Bella would never forgive that easily.
Across the city, Bella locked the studio door behind her and stayed late, unfinished sketches spread across her workplace. The sky was deepening into early dusk. She paused with her keys in hand, phone still silent in her bag.
Part of her wanted to check it.
Part of her wanted to know if Andrew was spiraling the way he always did when things slipped out of his control, skipping meals, throwing himself into work, punishing himself quietly.
She cared.
That was the problem.
But caring didn't mean accepting behavior that crossed boundaries they'd set together.
Bella hadn't planned to stay late.
The studio lights hummed softly above her, casting clean white lines over the work frame in front of her. She adjusted the curvature of the top tube, stepping back to assess it, sleek, controlled, intentional.
Just like she was trying to be.
Her phone vibrated on the workbench.
Luke.
She hesitated for half a second before answering.
"Hey," she said, keeping her voice neutral.
"Did I catch you at a bad time?" Luke asked. His tone was easy. No pressure. No expectation.
"No," she replied, surprised to find it was true. "I'm just finishing up."
"I was nearby," he said. "Thought I'd see if you wanted dinner. Nothing fancy, just something stress-free tonight.
The words landed softer than they should have.
Bella glanced at the clock. She could say no. She should say no. But the thought of going home to an empty apartment, to silence filled with thoughts she didn't want to entertain, made her chest tighten.
"Okay," she said finally. "I can do dinner."
Luke didn't sound triumphant. He didn't rush her. He just said, "I'll meet you outside."
When she locked up the studio and stepped into the evening air, Luke was already there, leaning casually against his car, hands in his pockets. He smiled when he saw her, not the kind that asked for anything, just the kind that acknowledged her presence as it mattered.
"You look tired," he said.
Bella laughed quietly. "That obvious?"
"Only because I've been there," he replied. "Design days can drain you without you realizing it."
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. "You're not wrong."
Dinner was simple. A small place she'd never noticed before. Warm lighting. Quiet conversations. No pretense.
That was the thing. He asked about her work. Her ideas. Why she liked clean lines and functional beauty.
"They move people," she said without thinking. "Literally and figuratively."
Luke smiled. "That tracks."
She found herself relaxing in a way she hadn't meant to. Talking. Laughing softly. Not guarding every word.
Across the table, Luke watched her not like someone waiting for an opening, but like someone genuinely listening.
That was how it happened.
Not with sparks or grand gestures.
With ease.
Andrew, meanwhile, sat alone in his penthouse, lights off except for the glow of the city outside. His phone lay face up on the counter, silent.
He told himself he wouldn't check her location.
He did anyway.
The dot wasn't home.
It wasn't at her studio or workplace.
It wasn't anywhere near his building.
His jaw tightened.
He didn't need confirmation to know what that meant.
Back at the restaurant, dessert arrived unprompted, something light, shared between them. Bella took a bite, then paused.
"I'm exhausted today," she admitted suddenly.
Luke didn't react. Didn't flinch.
"Did your employees not show up to work today?" he asked calmly.
She hesitated, then exhaled. "It's Monday, they're off today."
He nodded slowly. "I figured."
She waited for him to ask more.
He didn't.
"Bella, I know this is sudden, but I want to know if you're in a relationship because I'm not here to compete with anyone," Luke said. "I'm just here because I like you."
That was it.
No pressure.
No claim.
No jealousy disguised as concern.
Bella looked at him then, really looked, and for the first time in days, the tightness in her chest loosened. But she did not reply. Not yet, and Luke understood.
After the dinner, they walked back to Bella's shop because the distance wasn't far.
When they walked back to her car later, the night was quiet. Streetlights hummed. The city felt distant.
"I had a good time," she said.
"So did I," Luke replied. "If you want to do it again, let me know. If not, that's okay too."
He opened her car door for her, stepping back to give her space.
Their hands brushed accidentally, briefly.
But Bella noticed the difference immediately.
It didn't feel like a claim.
It felt like a choice.
She drove home with the radio low, mind quieter than it had been in days.
She squared her shoulders as she drove home, settling into place.
If Andrew wanted her back in his life, really back, he'd have to meet her where she stood now.