Elara did not intend to pull away. It happened instinctively, like touching a hot surface and withdrawing before the pain fully registered. After Mara's arrival, Elara found herself measuring every interaction with Adrian, second-guessing her reactions, guarding expressions that once came naturally.
She became quieter in meetings, more concise. Where she once challenged Adrian openly, she now deferred or disengaged. It was easier to retreat than to confront the unfamiliar ache tightening in her chest.
Adrian noticed immediately.
He noticed the way she no longer lingered after meetings, how she avoided eye contact, how her replies became polite rather than pointed. The shift unsettled him more than open conflict ever had.
One evening, as the office emptied and the city lights flickered on, Adrian approached her desk.
"Have I done something wrong?" he asked.
Elara didn't look up. "No."
The lie sat heavily between them.
"Because it feels like you're pushing me out," he continued.
She finally met his gaze, frustration flaring. "Maybe I just don't want to stand where I'm not needed."
Adrian frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means," she said carefully, "that some people already have their place in your life."
Silence stretched. Understanding dawned slowly in his expression.
"You mean Mara."
Elara's jaw tightened. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," he replied.
The tension between them sharpened, charged with emotions neither fully understood but both felt deeply. Adrian wanted to reach for her, to bridge the growing distance, but uncertainty held him back.
And Elara, terrified of exposing her vulnerability, turned away first.