In The Between

✧･Chapter 9 Are You Blind?

The office still smells new, in that subtle, almost unnoticeable way that only stands out because nothing else does.

No coffee lingering in the air, no worn-in furniture, no trace of anyone who's spent enough time here to make it theirs.

It's clean, untouched, and a little too polished, like it's waiting for something to happen inside it.

I set my bag down on the desk and take a slow look around, not because there's much to see, but because it feels like something I'm supposed to do.

The space is bigger than I expected - corner office, wide windows, a view that stretches farther than anything I had before.

Helena hadn't exactly downplayed it when she offered it to me, either.

There was a certain look on her face when she mentioned it, like she already knew I wouldn't turn it down.

She wasn't wrong.

Still, standing here now, it doesn't quite feel like mine yet.

I pull out the chair and sit, leaning back slightly as I glance toward the windows again.

The city looks the same as it always has, which is strange in a way I didn't expect.

I thought being gone this long would make it feel different somehow, or at least unfamiliar enough to notice the distance.

Instead, it's just... there. Like it's been waiting without really caring whether I came back or not.

I reach for my laptop, flipping it open more out of habit than anything else.

The screen lights up, pulling me into something more concrete, something easier to focus on.

Emails, meeting requests, deadlines already set in motion without me.

Nothing surprising, nothing I haven't handled before.

It's familiar in the way that matters, structured and predictable, something I can step into without having to think too much about it.

That part, at least, feels like mine.

I skim through a few messages, mentally sorting what needs to be handled first, what can wait, what I can delegate once I get a better sense of how everything is running here. It's enough to keep me occupied, enough to settle into something resembling routine, even if it's still new in the details.

For a while, it works.

But every so often, my attention drifts.

Not far, not enough to pull me completely away from what I'm doing, just enough to slow me down.

I catch myself rereading the same line twice, hovering over an email a second longer than necessary before responding, like I'm easing into the rhythm instead of falling into it the way I usually would.

I don't let it linger. I've never had much patience for distractions, especially not ones I can't immediately justify, so I refocus, pushing through the backlog in front of me until the movement feels natural again.

Eventually, I close out of my inbox and lean back in my chair, exhaling quietly as I glance around the office one more time. It's still too clean, too untouched, but there's something steadier about it now, like I've at least started to take up space in it, even if it's only been a few hours.

The knock is light, almost an afterthought, and the door opens before I have a chance to respond.

I don't look up immediately. I finish the line I'm reading, send the email, then close the tab before leaning back slightly in my chair, my gaze lifting toward the doorway.

Helena stands there like she belongs to the space more than I do, which, to be fair, she does. There's nothing rushed about her, nothing uncertain. She takes in the room in a single glance before her attention settles on me, her expression unreadable in a way that feels intentional.

"Settling in?" She asks, stepping inside without waiting for an answer, the door clicking shut behind her.

"Getting there," I reply, my tone even as I gesture vaguely to the office around me. "You didn't mention it came with a view."

One corner of her mouth lifts slightly. "I didn't think that would be the selling point."

She moves further into the room, her heels quiet against the floor as she takes a slow walk around, her attention drifting over the shelves, the desk, the windows. It would almost feel casual if I didn't know her better. Helena doesn't do anything without a reason.

I watch her for a second before speaking. "Is there something you needed?"

She hums softly, like she's considering the question, then turns to face me fully. "Not work-related."

That's enough to shift something in my posture, subtle but there. I don't move otherwise, just let my gaze rest on her, waiting, because I already knew what was going through her mind.

Helena studies me for a moment longer than necessary, like she's measuring how direct she wants to be.

"The dinner," she says, her tone still light, almost conversational. "Interesting energy."

I let out a quiet breath through my nose, leaning back slightly. "It was a group of people catching up. I'm not sure what you were expecting."

Her eyes narrow just a fraction, not in annoyance, more in recognition. "Not that."

"You left early." She continues.

"I had an early morning."

"Mae stopped talking halfway through the night."

I don't respond to that.

Helena takes a step closer to the desk, not crowding, but closing the distance enough that it feels intentional. "And the two of you managed to avoid each other so carefully it was almost impressive."

I let out a quiet breath through my nose, leaning back slightly. "We haven't seen each other in years. It's not that strange."

"No," Helena says, her voice soft but certain. "Strange would've been awkward small talk. That wasn't awkward. That was... contained."

The word lands a little too accurately. I don't react to it, at least not outwardly. "You're reading into it."

She shakes her head, slow, patient. "Claire, I hosted that entire night. I watched everyone at that table. You weren't ignoring her, you were tracking her without looking at her."

My fingers tap once against the arm of the chair before stilling. "That's a stretch."

"It's not," she replies easily. "And she was doing the exact same thing."

That pulls my gaze back to hers, sharper this time before I can stop it and Helena notices. Of course she does.

"There it is," she murmurs, not unkindly. "You don't even realize you're doing it."

I exhale slowly, shifting forward now, resting my forearms lightly against the desk as I look at her. "What exactly are you trying to get at?"

She doesn't hesitate. "Something happened between you two."

I held her gaze and said nothing. Because denying it outright would be too obvious, and confirming it would be worse.

Helena watches the silence stretch, her expression softening just slightly, but not enough to let me off the hook.

"I've known you for far too long, Claire. I know your moods, your reactions. I don't know what happened between you two, but something clearly did. Mae looked like she was going to pass out when she saw you."

She moves then, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down, like she's settling in for something that isn't going to be quick.

I sigh, louder this time, closing my eyes briefly. "Helena, please," I mutter. "Just... drop it."

"I never asked much of you," she continues, ignoring me entirely. Her voice sharpens just enough. "The only thing I asked was that you didn't cross that line with Mae."

A dry, humorless laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. I open my eyes, looking straight at her.

"Why are you blaming me?" I ask, my voice already thinning.

Her brow lifts. "Because it's you, Claire. Everything's a game with you. I just didn't want June's best friend getting caught in the crossfire."

That lands wrong, and deep.

I lean forward, my hands pressing flat against the desk. "First of all, you don't get to dig into my business like this," I snap. "And secondly - I was not the one who fucking started it."

That shifts her. "Excuse me?" She says, sitting up straighter.

"I kept my distance from Mae," I continue, the words coming faster now, sharper. "Yeah, I joked, I teased - I do that. But I never crossed that line with her. Not once."

Helena's eyes narrow slightly. "Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying she did," I fire back, my chest rising. "She grabbed me. She kissed me. She started it."

The room goes still and Helena blinks, once, like she needs a second to process that.

"Wait," she says, holding up a hand slightly. "Wait... what?"

I don't answer and her expression shifts from confusion, then surprise, then something sharper. "You and Mae... what do you mean she kissed you?"

I look away, jaw tightening. "It was one night."

"That's not an explanation, Claire."

"At your wedding," I add.

That hits and Helena freezes, her mouth parting slightly. "My wedding?" she repeats.

She leans back, dragging a hand through her hair. "Okay, no. You don't get to just say that and move on." She leans forward again, eyes locked onto me. "Tell me what happened."

I hesitate.

"Claire."

I exhale slowly, my fingers curling against the desk before I force them to relax. There's no clean way to say this.

"I walked her back to her room," I start, my voice lower now, steadier only because I'm forcing it to be. "She'd had too much to drink. I was just making sure she got there."

Helena doesn't interrupt.

"We got to the door. I was leaving," I continue, my gaze fixed somewhere just past her shoulder. "I said goodnight."

I swallow once. "And she stopped me."

Helena leans in slightly, her focus sharpening.

"She grabbed my wrist," I say. "Pulled me back." A beat.

"And then she kissed me."

Helena's brows pull together, but she stays quiet.

"I told her we shouldn't," I add, quieter now. "I did. I tried to stop it." My jaw tightens.

"But every time I pulled back, she just-" I shake my head slightly, the memory hitting harder than I expect. "She kept kissing me. Like she couldn't bear the thought of me leaving."

The room feels smaller now. "I should've walked away," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "I knew that. I wish I had."

"But you didn't," Helena says softly.

I let out a breath, something heavier than I mean it to be. "No."

Silence stretches between us again, thick and loaded. "And then?" She asks, quieter now.

I glance at her briefly before looking away again. "Then I stayed."

Helena leans back slowly, absorbing everything, her expression no longer sharp, just stunned, trying to piece it together.

"Okay," she murmurs, more to herself than to me. "Okay..."

She looks back at me, her voice more careful now. "And after that?"

"Nothing," I say immediately.

Her brows knit together. "Nothing?"

"She woke up the next morning and shut it down," I reply, my tone flattening, but it feels forced, like I'm pressing something down that won't stay there.

"Acted like it shouldn't have happened. Like it was a mistake.

" I swallow, my throat tightening slightly.

"She kept saying she didn't remember anything. Over and over."

Helena doesn't interrupt.

"I tried to talk to her," I continue, quieter now, my gaze dropping to the desk.

"I tried to get her to just... look at me.

To acknowledge it. But she kept panicking.

Every time I pushed even a little, she'd shut down or snap or just...

spiral." I let out a breath that feels heavier than it should. "And then we were yelling."

A pause. "And then I just... left," I finish, my voice quieter than before. "We haven't talked about it since."

The silence that follows feels heavier than anything I've said.

"It's been six years, Claire," Helena says slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me. "What do you mean you haven't talked about it?"

I don't answer and her expression shifts, something clicking into place. "Wait," she says, leaning forward slightly. "Hold on - is that why you left the way you did?"

I sigh, long and tired, shaking my head like that alone might end this conversation. "I really don't want to do this, Helena. It's in the past, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"Claire," she says, sharper now. "Are you blind?"

I look up at her, frowning, my hands lifting slightly in frustration.

"Mae remembers," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "She has to. It all makes sense now. The way she shuts down when you're brought up, how she avoids talking about you, how she looks like she's somewhere else entirely when your name comes up."

I shake my head immediately. "No."

"Yes," Helena insists, sitting forward more. "Claire, I've known her for years. That's not someone who forgot - that's someone who refuses to say it out loud."

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there's no humor in it. "It doesn't matter, Helena!" I snap, the words sharper than I intend.

Her eyes lock onto mine. "You raising your voice tells me otherwise."

I go still. "I've never seen you react like this," she continues, quieter now but more certain. "Not about anything. Not about anyone."

I close my eyes, pulling in a slow breath, but it doesn't steady me the way I want it to. If anything, it just makes everything feel closer to the surface.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, my voice lower now, strained.

"There's no point to any of this. Mae doesn't want to remember.

She made that very clear." I shake my head slightly, opening my eyes to look at her again.

"She moved on. She's with Chris, and he...

he seems good for her. He is good for her. "

The words taste wrong on the way out.

I can feel it now, the pressure behind my eyes, the burn I've been holding back since the second Helena walked in.

"Seriously," I add, my voice cracking just slightly despite my effort to keep it steady. "What do you want me to say?"

Helena doesn't answer, so I do.

"That it hurts?" I let out a quiet, broken breath, my vision blurring just enough that I have to blink it back. "Because it does. It still does, even after six years of pretending it doesn't."

I laugh softly, but it falls apart halfway through.

"That nobody compares to her?" I continue, my voice quieter now, more exposed. "Because nobody ever has."

My throat tightens, and I have to look away, my gaze drifting toward the window because I can't hold hers anymore.

"That every night I fall asleep, I see her?" I add, barely above a whisper now. "Because I do. I see that night. I hear her voice. The way she said my name like it-" I stop myself, swallowing hard. "Like it meant something."

I press my lips together, trying to regain control, but it's already slipping.

"And the worst part?" I say, softer now, my voice uneven. "I would do it all again. Even knowing how it ends."

That's the part that breaks and the room goes completely still. Helena just stares at me, blinking once, then again, like she's trying to process the weight of everything I just said.

She exhales slowly, something in her expression softening in a way I've never seen directed at me before.

"You loved her," she says quietly.

I shake my head immediately, too quickly, turning away from her, my gaze fixed out the window. But I don't correct her.

Helena watches me for a long moment, like she wants to say something else, something bigger, but doesn't.

Instead, she just nods slowly. "Okay," she says softly. "Okay."

The gentleness of it almost makes it worse.

I let out a breath, dragging my hands over my face, forcing everything back into place, piece by piece, like I didn't just let all of that spill out.

When I look up again, I'm steadier. Not better, just... contained.

"Can we not do this?" I ask, quieter now. "Please."

Helena studies me, then nods once. "For now."

She stands, smoothing her hands over her clothes before heading toward the door. She pauses just before opening it, glancing back at me.

"You should talk to her."

I don't even hesitate.

"No."

Helena doesn't argue this time, but that's how I know she doesn't agree. But she leaves anyway and the door clicks shut behind her, and the silence that follows feels louder than before.

I sit there for a moment, staring at nothing, my chest still tight, my thoughts louder than I want them to be.