The second I stepped into the hallway outside her apartment, I almost turned around.
My hand was sweaty around the black folder. My hoodie felt too tight. And my heart? It was somewhere in my throat, hammering like I was walking into a playoff match—except this wasn’t the kind of arena where you could win with footwork and adrenaline.
This was Riley’s door.
And I wasn’t showing up with flowers or apologies.
I was showing up with something bigger.
Something that meant everything if she still believed in us—even just a little.
I raised my fist to knock.
Inside, I heard laughter. Loud, unfiltered, familiar.
Zara.
Figures. I knocked anyway.
The door creaked open a second later, and there she was—Riley, barefoot in leggings and a hoodie, her hair pulled back like she’d been lounging but still managing to look like she ran the world.
Behind her, I caught sight of Zara holding a slice of pizza mid-air like she was about to narrate a murder documentary.
“Oh,” I said, eyes drifting to the couch. “Hi. I think I saw you in Raph—”
The door slammed shut between us before I could even finish the sentence.
Classic Riley.
She stepped outside, arms already crossed like a barrier. “What are you doing here? This is outside of office hours.”
“Chill,” I said, holding up the folder. “I’m not here to fight. I just… wanted to give you something.”
She didn’t move. Just looked at me like she was bracing for another apology she didn’t want.
I handed her the folder.
She opened it.
And for a second—just one—she stopped breathing.
Inside was the sketch. A logo. My foundation’s name paired with hers in clean, simple lines. A joint clinic proposal. Her therapy methods. My funding. A future—if she wanted it.
“You did this?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what comes after all this. Rehab. Headlines. The league. When the noise dies down… what’s left?”
She said nothing, still staring at the paper like it didn’t make sense.
She looked up.
“I don’t know what we are. I don’t even know if you’d want to do something like this. But I know one thing—your work makes people believe again. Including me.”