Maya POV
The days went by like a blur.
Everything felt foggy. Like I was on autopilot—going to work, doing what I had to, and avoiding eye contact like it was a survival tactic. The photo drama? Fading. The whispers? Dimming.
Because people at the office had moved on.
They always did. They needed fresh meat—and they got it.
“Did you hear?” Tim whisper-screeched, plopping his tray down beside me at our usual cafeteria table. “It’s the guy from Finance. He got Cindy from Reception pregnant.”
I blinked, barely registering what he said. “What?”
“Yes. Cindy,” he said, dramatically slicing into his sandwich. “As in, the woman who just got married. The wedding photos are still up on her desk. And now? Pregnant. With someone else’s baby.”
I stared at him, dazed. “No way.”
“Yes way,” he nodded like he’d just delivered state secrets. “And the guy’s married, Maya. Married. To someone from HR. HR is basically on fire right now. Everyone is pretending not to talk about it, but, babe, they’re all talking.”
I blinked again.
“Oh my god,” I murmured.
“And Cindy’s been crying in the bathroom like, every two hours,” Tim continued. “And Mr. Homewrecker from Finance just walks around like he didn’t explode half the building with his wandering—”
“Tim!” I cut in with a shaky laugh.
He tilted his head. “Too much?”
“Just… wow.”
He paused, eyeing me carefully. “You’re really not here, are you?”
“What?”
“You’ve been zoning out since you sat down.”
I sighed and pushed my food around with my fork. “Yeah, I guess I’ve just been in my thoughts a lot.”
Tim folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly are these deep, brooding thoughts about?”
I avoided his gaze. “Nothing.”
“Is that nothing a six-foot emotionally unavailable man with amazing cheekbones?”
“Tim—”
“How’s the project going?”
“It’s… coming together,” I said, trying to sound casual. “But yeah, I haven’t seen Noah the past few days.”
Tim perked up. “That’s a good thing, right?”
I opened my mouth to say yes. To agree.
To say how peaceful it’s been not having him breathe down my neck, not having my heart thud every time he walks past, not getting whiplash from his hot-and-cold moods.
But instead, I hesitated. Because it should be a good thing. And yet…
“I mean, yeah. It is,” I said finally, forcing a smile. “It’s definitely a good thing.”
Tim gave me a flat stare. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”
I looked down at my tray. “It’s just that… after the party—when he followed me outside, when he said all that stuff about always stepping aside for Alex—and then that whole thing with the glass breaking… I guess I just thought…”
“You thought he’d talk to you after,” Tim said gently.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I thought maybe it meant something. But then—nothing. He just disappeared again. And maybe that’s better. Maybe I imagined it all.”
Tim shook his head. “Maya, you didn’t imagine anything. That man looked at you like you were the only person in the room. He broke a damn glass watching you dance. I’ve never seen a man clench a tumbler that hard unless it’s in a drama series.”
I laughed a little at that, even though my chest still felt heavy. “I just… I wish I knew what any of it meant.”
Tim reached out and touched my hand. “Maybe he’s just scared. Or maybe he’s too proud. But either way, you’re not crazy for wanting answers.”
I nodded, grateful, and looked away to steady myself. “I guess it’s good he’s been gone, though. Gives me space to think.”
“Sure,” Tim said, raising an eyebrow. “If we’re lying now.”
I gave him a look. “It is a good thing.”
But the moment those words left my mouth, I heard it.
A cough. Low. Deep. Intentional. Tim’s eyes went wide. I turned slowly. And there he was.
Noah Sterling.
Standing a few feet away in a slate-gray coat, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. His jaw was tight, but his eyes—God, those eyes—they were on me.
“Miss Monroe,” he said smoothly.
I blinked. “Mr. Sterling?”
“To my office,” he said firmly, his voice clipped. “Now.”