50
A few weeks passed. The kind that move quickly when everything feels like it's working, even if nothing's quite defined.
Amanda and Ericka found a rhythm.
Mornings were crisp with routine. Emails exchanged before sunrise.
Glances shared across the glass walls of the office.
Coffee delivered to Ericka's desk with no fanfare, always with the perfect ratio of oat milk and cinnamon.
Their evenings, when they happened, were private and quiet—sometimes full of conversation, sometimes just full of presence.
But then, something changed.
It started subtly.
Ericka began stepping out during the workday.
At first, Amanda didn't think much of it. An unexpected lunch meeting. A rescheduled investor call. But then it happened again. And again.
Always sudden.
Always announced in the same clipped way: "I have an appointment."
No explanation. No detail. Just that.
She'd leave mid-morning or just after lunch, never gone too long, but long enough that Amanda noticed. Long enough that Amanda started to wonder.
It wasn't like Ericka to be vague. If anything, she was transparent to a fault about her schedule. Every call, every dinner, every media prep session—Amanda knew about them before Ericka even walked into the room.
But these new appointments? They were nowhere on the calendar. No reminders. No follow-ups.
Amanda tried not to let it get to her.
She wasn't the jealous type. She trusted Ericka—more than she trusted most people, if she was honest. But the ambiguity lingered like a fog in her chest.
On the third unscheduled outing that week, Amanda caught herself hovering by the window, watching as Ericka stepped into the backseat of her black car, her phone clutched tightly in one hand.
She didn't wave. She didn't look back.
And Amanda stood there, holding a folder of edited campaign notes, wondering why it suddenly felt like something was unraveling.
Back at her desk, Amanda opened her email. Nothing new. She flicked her gaze to the clock. 2:47 PM.
Ericka had left just after two.
Amanda minimized her screen, sat back, and stared at the empty space where Ericka usually sat behind the glass wall.
Was it selfish to want to know?
She didn't want to snoop. But it wasn't just curiosity. It was concern. The kind that builds slowly when you know someone intimately enough to recognize when they're carrying something alone.
The next morning, Ericka returned to the office as if nothing had changed. Her tone was even. Her mood unreadable. But Amanda saw it in the tightness around her eyes. The way she rubbed her thumb against her palm when she thought no one was watching.
She wanted to ask.
She wanted to pull her into the office and say, "You can tell me. Whatever it is."
But she didn't.
Because Ericka hadn't offered. And Amanda knew better than to push her past the threshold she wasn't ready to cross.
So instead, she left a post-it note on her desk.
I know you have a lot on your mind. Just know you don't have to carry it alone.