The spoon clinked softly against the ceramic mug.
Denisse gave the coffee one last absentminded stir before setting the spoon in the breakroom sink. The rich aroma drifted through the air, familiar now after countless mornings spent preparing Lesley's coffee exactly the way she liked it.
She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug and drew in a quiet breath.
Then she stepped out of the breakroom.
The short walk to the executive office suddenly felt much longer than it used to.
She knocked twice.
"Come in."
Denisse pushed the door open.
Lesley was seated behind her desk, eyes fixed on her laptop until she heard the footsteps approaching.
Without looking up, Denisse placed the mug carefully on the desk.
"Here's your coffee, Ms. Ashford."
Silence.
It lasted only a second.
Long enough for Denisse to feel it.
Lesley finally looked up, confusion flickering across her face.
"...Ms. Ashford?"
There was a hint of amusement in her voice, as though she thought Denisse was joking.
Denisse forced a polite smile that never quite reached her eyes.
"I think that's more appropriate."
She kept her tone professional.
"We're at the office."
Lesley's brows drew together.
"Wait... why are you—"
A knock interrupted her.
"Come in."
The door opened almost immediately.
"Ms. Ashford, the documents from Finance have arrived."
"Just leave them here. Thank you."
The employee stepped inside, setting the folder on Lesley's desk.
Denisse took the interruption as her escape.
"If that's all, I'll return to my desk."
She didn't wait for a response.
She slipped quietly out of the office, closing the door behind her.
Only after reaching her own desk did she finally exhale.
She lowered herself into her chair and stared blankly at the monitor in front of her.
The cursor blinked across an unfinished email.
She couldn't bring herself to type a single word.
The days had settled into a rhythm she never intended to create.
She never told Lesley about the conversation on the rooftop.
Never mentioned Daphne.
Never admitted that every word spoken that night still echoed inside her head.
Instead...
She pulled away.
Little by little.
When Lesley invited her to dinner, Denisse would smile apologetically and say she already had plans with Gigi.
When Lesley reached for her hand in the privacy of the office, Denisse always seemed to remember another task waiting for her.
When Lesley leaned in, searching for a kiss that had once come so naturally...
Denisse would turn away just enough to check a document, answer a phone call, straighten a stack of papers.
Always something.
Always an excuse.
At first, Lesley had laughed it off.
Then she started asking questions.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Is something bothering you?"
"Talk to me."
Each time, Denisse answered with the same practiced smile.
"I'm just tired."
"I haven't been sleeping well."
"I'm fine."
She hated herself a little more every time she said it.
But the truth was harder.
Because if she told Lesley what Daphne had said...
She would have to ask the question she'd been avoiding.
What are we?
And she wasn't sure she could survive the answer.
So she chose distance instead.
It wasn't fair.
Not to Lesley.
Not to herself.
But it was the only thing she knew how to do.
If she kept her heart from reaching any deeper...
Maybe...
Just maybe...
It wouldn't hurt quite as much when she finally had to let go.
The hours slipped by unnoticed.
One document became another. Emails piled up. Reports blurred together beneath the glow of her monitor.
Denisse welcomed it.
As long as she kept her hands busy and her mind occupied, she didn't have to think.
She didn't have to remember a rooftop.
Or a conversation she wished she'd never heard.
The sound of approaching heels pulled her attention away from the spreadsheet in front of her.
She looked up.
Daphne.
Denisse's fingers stilled above the keyboard.
For a fleeting moment, instinct urged her to stand.
To stop her.
To ask where she thought she was going.
But the thought disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
What's the point?
She had no right.
Not anymore.
Not when she didn't even know what she was to Lesley.
So she remained seated.
She watched as Daphne walked confidently through the executive floor and stopped outside Lesley's office.
A soft knock.
Then the door opened.
Lesley looked up.
Instead of surprise or annoyance, her expression eased into a small smile.
As though she'd been expecting her.
The sight struck harder than Denisse wanted to admit.
She told herself to look away.
She couldn't.
Through the glass walls of the office, the two women stood facing each other.
Daphne said something.
Lesley laughed.
Not loudly.
Just enough for the smile to linger on her face.
Then Daphne laughed too.
The distance and the glass muffled every word, leaving Denisse with nothing but silent expressions and imagined conversations.
It was worse that way.
They looked...
Natural.
As if they belonged in the same space.
As if they'd done this countless times before.
A sharp pressure tightened around Denisse's chest.
She tried to ignore it.
She couldn't.
The ache spread until even breathing felt difficult.
Her chair scraped quietly against the floor as she pushed herself to her feet.
No one seemed to notice.
Or perhaps they politely pretended not to.
Keeping her head down, she walked as steadily as she could toward the restroom.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
She slipped inside the empty comfort room and locked herself inside the nearest cubicle.
Silence.
For one fragile second, she held herself together.
Then her shoulders trembled.
A shaky breath escaped her lips.
Another followed.
She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless.
The first tear fell.
Then another.
Until the sob she'd been holding back all day finally broke free.
She sank against the cubicle wall, wrapping her arms around herself as tears streamed uncontrollably down her face.
She hated this.
Hated how easily Daphne's words had lodged themselves inside her mind.
Because all it had taken...
...was one smile through a glass wall...
...to make her wonder if she'd been fooling herself all along.