CHAPTER 23
Elena
Month-end close always did this to me. It compressed time until hours blurred together and basic needs quietly slipped out of reach.
By noon, I was buried under accounts payable reconciliations, toggling between AP aging reports, AR schedules, and spreadsheets that refused to balance unless I stared at them long enough.
I barely registered the tension in my shoulders until my stomach gave a soft, hollow reminder that I hadn’t eaten. I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple.
At least during this busy period of my life, Adrian was home, not away on a project.
Even though there were times when we were truly overwhelmed and still needed Avery’s help, having Adrian at home meant Haille didn’t look for me as much.
As if simply knowing her father was there made her world feel secure.
“Still alive?”
I glanced up to see Harley, sleeves rolled up, faint shadows beneath his ocean eyes betraying a lack of sleep.
“Define alive,” I muttered. “If this last AR balance doesn’t tie, I might actually cry at my desk.”
He huffed a short laugh. “Final reconciliation?”
I gave a small nod.
“Figures,” he said. “Month-end close is brutal this time.”
He straightened, already stepping back. “I’ll be right back.”
I frowned. “Harley—”
Too late.
Before I could answer, he was already turning away.
Twenty minutes later, he was back, dropping a paper bag and a coffee onto the corner of my desk like it was part of his job description.
“Lunch,” he said simply.
I blinked at it, then at him. “Harley, you didn’t have to.”
“You’ve been glued to that spreadsheet since morning,” he replied. “I figured you forgot what food is.”
I reached for my phone. “Let me transfer you. I’ll pay you back.”
He shook his head immediately. “No need. I bought mine too. Same place.”
“That’s still—”
“Elena,” he said, not unkindly. “It’s fine.”
I hesitated, then sighed, setting my phone back on the desk. “Okay. But next lunch is on me.”
A grin tugged at his lips. “Deal.”
We bumped fists lightly before he headed back to his desk, and only then did I realize how hungry I actually was.
Not long after, my phone vibrated against the desk.
Adrian.
I glanced at the screen just as my manager, Thomas, appeared beside my desk, tablet in hand.
“Elena, do you have a minute? I want to go over the AP aging before we finalize.”
I hesitated for half a second, then turned the phone face down. “Of course.”
The call went unanswered.
By the time we finished reviewing adjustments and deadlines, I dove straight back into work, telling myself I’d call Adrian back in a minute.
That minute stretched. Then disappeared.
I didn’t realize how late it had gotten until the overhead lights dimmed automatically and the floor fell into that end-of-day quiet.
I grabbed my phone, saw several missed calls and texts from Adrian, and called him immediately.
He picked up after a few rings. “Hey.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I lost track of time. The reports completely got away from me.”
There was a pause, long enough for me to notice.
Behind me, a voice cut through the quiet.
“Hey, I’m heading down,” Harley said casually. “I’m parked on B2. Wanna head out together?”
I lifted my hand just enough to signal him to stop, shook my head, and mouthed, ‘You go ahead’ as I turned slightly away.
“I’m still at the office,” I added into the phone, steadying my voice. “I’ll be leaving in a minute.”
Silence pressed against my ear.
“...alright,” Adrian said finally.
“I’ll be home soon,” I said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Drive safe.”
The call ended.
I stared at my phone for a second longer than necessary before slipping it into my bag and standing up.
When I reached the elevators, I slowed, then stopped when I realized Harley already standing there, waiting.
“You’re still here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Was heading down anyway.”
“You didn’t have to wait,” I said. “You could’ve gone first.”
“It’s late,” he replied simply. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “You don’t have to wait for me, you know. You can go ahead.”
For a moment, he just looked at me, his expression unreadable, before stepping aside as the elevator doors slid open.
“It’s fine,” he said lightly. “I’m here anyway.”
I stepped inside, the doors closing behind us, the low hum of descent filling the space between us. And yet, for reasons I didn’t fully want to name, my chest felt just a little heavier as the elevator carried us down.
— ? —
Adrian
The call ended, but the silence didn’t. I stayed where I was, the phone still pressed to my ear for half a second too long, listening to nothing. Just the faint hum of the room. The air conditioner. My own breathing.
I replayed the call in my head. The pause before she answered. The way her voice shifted—subtle but unmistakable—when someone spoke behind her. A man’s voice.
I paced the room, my steps sharp and controlled, every muscle wound tight. Two years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about a coworker walking out with her. Hell, I barely noticed the men around her back then. I was secure, confident, certain she was mine.
And then I lost that certainty, because I proved how easily things could slip away.
Eventually, I dropped onto the living room couch, my back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling as I forced my shoulders to relax.
This was exactly what my therapist had warned me about, the way fear sharpened perception, how it twisted neutral moments into threats.
“Fear can turn into control if you’re not careful.”
But I wasn’t controlling her. I was alert.
I exhaled slowly. The instinct to call her again tugged at me, sharp and insistent—to ask who she was with, to ask whether she was walking to her car alone.
I waited for her to come home, killing time by watching TV while the minutes dragged on. Eventually, I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
I waited for her to come inside. When she realized I was still awake, she looked slightly surprised.
“You’re not asleep yet? It’s almost eleven,” she said, glancing at her watch.
“I waited because you weren’t home yet,” I replied, standing up and walking toward her.
“Oh. Okay,” Elena answered, setting her work bag down.
“Who was still at the office?” I asked.
She looked taken aback by the question. “Earlier... there were only a few people left. Thomas, me, Harley, and a couple of others.” Then she frowned, suspicious. “Why are you asking?”
I ignored her comment. “Who did you leave with?”
“What kind of question is that? I drove myself. I brought my own car, Adrian,” she replied, irritation creeping into her voice.
“Who did you walk to the parking lot with?”
“God, why are you interrogating me like this?” she snapped. “Are you suspicious of me? I was working, Adrian. I’m exhausted. And if your brain is imagining that I’m cheating, then enjoy your fantasy.”
She walked past me, but I caught her wrist.
“Answer me, Elena. Who was with you?” I asked again.
She yanked her hand free. “Harley. Why? Don’t like it?” she challenged.
“Your junior? The one in the photo at the company picnic? The one holding Haille?” I pressed.
She flinched slightly. “Yes. Him,” she answered.
“I don’t like you being close to him,” I said flatly.
Elena let out a mocking laugh. “Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. I’m his mentor. He’s going to be around me. That’s how it’s always been. Why is it suddenly a problem now? Why don’t you just tell me to quit my job while you’re at it?”
“Fine,” I replied coldly. “Then quit.”
She froze. Her eyes started to glisten. “You’ve lost your mind,” she said quietly.
“Yeah,” I answered. “I’ve lost my mind thinking about my wife being around another man. And I’m sure he doesn’t see you as just a coworker.”
“Not everyone thinks the way you do, Adrian.” Her voice wavered.
I didn’t respond. She went upstairs to our bedroom right after that. I didn’t follow her. I stayed where I was, sinking back into the couch, letting my thoughts spiral in silence.
Eventually, I went upstairs.
She was changing when I walked into the room. I didn’t say anything. I lay down on the bed, keeping my eyes averted, forcing my focus anywhere but her.
I waited for her to join me, certain she would lie down beside me. She didn’t. Instead, she walked back out of the room.
At first, I let it go. I told myself she just needed space. But after a while, the quiet became unbearable. I got up and went looking for her.
I checked the guest room downstairs first, but she wasn’t there.
When I headed back upstairs and walked down the hall to Haille’s room, I found Elena curled up on the couch near the crib, watching our daughter sleep.
Her body was still, her breaths measured. But I could tell she was crying—silent and restrained—the kind meant not to wake a sleeping child.
In that moment, regret hit me hard and immediately.
I knew I had crossed a line.