63
The click of heels against polished floor rang like a drumline through the office halls — sharp, purposeful, commanding.
Ericka Mathews was back.
And not just "returning from a mysterious business trip" back — but "commanding an empire in four-inch heels and a blazer so sharp it could cut glass" back.
She moved like she never left, striding through the executive wing with her assistant jogging half a step behind, tablet in one hand and coffee in the other.
Her phone buzzed twice. She didn't flinch.
Her team glanced up with a mix of relief and awe as she passed, nodding once in acknowledgment but not slowing.
It was game day.
The pitch for the company's next big fashion show was happening in twenty minutes — a massive rebrand, international partnership, and sustainability initiative all in one.
Ericka was set to present the vision to the board, a collection of investors, and a few high-profile fashion editors from New York and Paris. No pressure or anything.
Amanda was already in the conference room when Ericka arrived, flipping through her binder with a pen tucked behind her ear and that calm, capable energy she always carried in high-stakes moments.
"You're early," Ericka said, a touch of a smirk on her lips.
Amanda looked up, already smiling. "You taught me well."
Ericka chuckled, the tension in her shoulders easing just slightly.
Amanda crossed the room and handed her a sleek leather folio. "Everything's in here. Slides, talking points, names, and a few potential curveballs in case anyone gets bold in the QA."
Ericka flipped it open, scanning the first few pages. "You really do think of everything."
"That's my brand," Amanda replied with a wink. "I also added a little 'inspirational quote' at the bottom of page six in case you forget you're a badass."
Ericka laughed under her breath. "Let me guess... something deeply profound like 'Kill it, Queen'?"
"Close. 'They're lucky you showed up.'"
Ericka gave her a long, quiet look. Then she nodded once. "Let's do this."
The room was packed.
The board sat lined along the right side of the long glass table, investors to the left, and three press passes sat clipped to the front-row chairs like golden tickets.
Ericka stood at the head of the table in her signature dark green blazer — one of her power colors. Amanda sat slightly behind and to the side, running the presentation from a tablet and watching Ericka's every move with quiet precision.
The first ten minutes were flawless.
Ericka introduced the concept with grace and clarity, her voice rich and confident, the slideshow moving behind her like a well-timed symphony.
The new fashion line — dubbed élan: A Collection in Motion — was all about sustainability meets streetwear, high fashion without the high footprint.
The crowd was intrigued, leaning in, murmuring with interest.
Then it happened.
Halfway through explaining the international partnership timeline, Ericka caught sight of her reflection in the glass wall — a flash of her sunglasses from earlier in the day, her eyes tired, the memory of the hospital room still lingering in the back of her mind like a shadow.
She blinked.
Her throat tightened.
She paused.
The air in the room dipped a little too quiet. A few heads tilted, unsure whether this was part of a dramatic pause... or a falter.
Amanda didn't hesitate.
She stood smoothly, sliding forward just enough to catch the attention of the room while subtly turning the slide ahead.
"To give some context on that rollout," Amanda said, voice warm and confident, "we've coordinated with both Paris and Tokyo to align the campaign with Fashion Month next spring.
This gives us lead time to produce, ship, and promote with less environmental waste and more creative visibility. "
Ericka breathed.
The pressure on her chest loosened. She refocused. Found her footing.
"Yes," she said, stepping back in with perfect timing, her voice steady once more. "And in doing so, we're not just joining the conversation — we're leading it."
The room nodded, the moment passed.
Amanda slid back into place, her eyes meeting Ericka's for just a second — nothing overt, no spotlight, just a quiet signal: I've got you.
And Ericka... she didn't miss a beat after that.
The rest of the presentation soared. Ericka answered every question with poise, countered every concern with strategy, and landed the close with a signature smile that said we've already won.
When the meeting ended and people filtered out, impressed and buzzing, Ericka stood in the doorway watching them go. Her hand was tucked in her pocket, but her shoulders were no longer tense. Her eyes were clear.
Amanda approached slowly, tablet tucked under one arm.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
Ericka turned to her. "I had a moment."
"Yeah," Amanda said gently. "You did."
"And you covered it."
"Of course I did."
There was a long silence — not awkward, just full. Full of gratitude, of knowing, of something that didn't need to be said out loud anymore.
"Thank you," Ericka said anyway.
Amanda smiled. "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you remembered they're lucky you showed up."
Ericka laughed, low and warm, and glanced over her shoulder at the empty conference room.
"I think they know it now."
The office was quieter than usual. The post-meeting adrenaline had faded into a hush, broken only by the occasional hum of the HVAC system and the soft clicking of Amanda's keyboard. The lights were dimmed down to a golden glow, casting long shadows across the polished floor.
Most of the staff had cleared out after the big pitch — which, despite a small hiccup, had gone off like fireworks.
It had been one of the most important presentations of the year, and Ericka had handled it like the powerhouse she was, with Amanda right behind her, keeping everything stitched together like a quiet heartbeat.
Now, Amanda sat at her desk with her sleeves rolled up, hair pulled into a loose bun, and a third cup of coffee cooling at her side. She glanced toward Ericka's glass-walled office — dark now, quiet and waiting.
Ericka had protested, of course.
"I'm fine," she'd said, blazer still on and lips still pressed into that stubborn line. "I can stay a little longer. There's follow-up to do."
But Amanda had stepped in, gently but firmly. "You're running on fumes. Let me handle the follow-up. Go home, shower, get cozy. I'll make sure the rest of the week is smooth as silk."
Ericka had hesitated, lingering by Amanda's desk like she didn't want to go. Like leaving Amanda behind felt harder than she expected. Eventually, she'd sighed, kissed her fingertips and tapped them against Amanda's wrist — a tiny stolen gesture — and then disappeared into the elevator.
That had been an hour ago.
Now Amanda was here, elbows deep in calendar changes, email drafts, and vendor confirmations. She liked it, in a way — the quiet, the order, the feeling of protecting Ericka's world while she rested. It felt like love, just... behind the scenes.
Her phone buzzed beside her.
Ericka ??: You still at the office?
Amanda smiled and picked up the phone.
Amanda: Of course. You think I'd abandon your empire in its hour of need?
The reply came fast.
Ericka ??: I miss you.
Ericka ??: The house is too quiet.
Ericka ??: Also... my blanket is lonely without you under it.
Amanda laughed softly, heart flipping a little.
Amanda: Wow, so it's not you that's lonely. It's the blanket.
Ericka ??: Don't get smart. Come cuddle me.
Amanda leaned back in her chair, staring at the message with a slow-growing smile.
She should finish this scheduling block. She should double-check the catering invoice. She should probably update the new investor profile sheets before the Thursday call.
But then again...
The image of Ericka curled up on the couch, bare-faced and barefoot, hoodie sleeves too long, hair wild and free — that pulled at Amanda in a way spreadsheets never could.
She typed out one last note to herself, closed the laptop, and grabbed her coat.
Before she left, she made sure Ericka's office was set for the morning — desk cleared, fresh water in the carafe, post-it with a little heart left by the keyboard like a secret between them.
Back at her desk, she scribbled a quick checklist and left it under a paperweight — tomorrow's battles could wait until the sun was back.
Her phone buzzed again just as she stepped into the elevator.
Ericka ??: Bring snacks.
Amanda grinned, tucking her phone into her pocket.
"On my way, boss."
Amanda juggled a grocery bag on one arm and her keys in the other, letting herself into Ericka's apartment with the practiced ease of someone who belonged there.
The scent hit her first — something floral and clean, underscored by the faintest trace of Ericka's favorite candle, the one Amanda always pretended not to like but secretly did.
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click, kicking off her shoes as she called out, "I come bearing snacks and zero shame."
From the bedroom, Ericka's voice floated out, warm and just a little sleepy. "Tell me there are sour gummies and not just kale chips again."
Amanda scoffed, placing the bag on the counter. "First of all, that was one time. Second of all..." She paused for effect, pulling out the bright orange package. "Of course there are gummies. What do you take me for?"
Ericka padded out from the hall, wearing a loose t-shirt and joggers, her hair pulled back in a way that said she hadn't expected anyone — except maybe Amanda. Her face lit up at the sight of the snacks, but it softened even more when she looked at Amanda.
"You're a good person," she said, reaching for the bag.
"I know," Amanda said with a grin. "Now get cozy. I brought options." She held up three DVDs dramatically. "A rom-com, a bad thriller, and the animated comfort film of our childhood."
Ericka arched a brow. "We both know it's gonna be the cartoon."
Amanda smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Ten minutes later, they were curled up on the couch — Amanda in the corner, legs stretched out, Ericka tucked into her side like she'd always been there. A soft blanket covered them both, and the light from the TV flickered across the room in pastel colors.
The opening scene rolled.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. The kind of silence that doesn't need filling. Amanda reached absently into the snack bowl, popping a gummy into her mouth, and Ericka's head shifted slightly on her shoulder, nestling closer.
"You okay?" Amanda asked quietly.
Ericka nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. I just like this. You being here."
Amanda tilted her head and kissed the top of her hair. "Me too."
As the movie played, Ericka's hand found Amanda's under the blanket, their fingers weaving together slowly, unconsciously. There was no rush to talk about work, or treatments, or anything that existed outside of this soft, suspended moment.
When the credits rolled and the room dimmed again, Ericka didn't move to get up. She just exhaled — long and slow — and looked up at Amanda.
"Stay," she whispered.
Amanda looked at Ericka and kissed her softly.