The room was quiet, except for the distant hum of the city. Late afternoon light spilled through the window, coloring the wall in pale gold. He sat in a chair near the glass, leaning back with one arm resting behind his head, his posture loose but his mind clearly somewhere else. His gaze drifted outside, following nothing in particular. Just thinking.
The door opened. A woman stepped in without knocking. She paused for a second, studying him. "Have you told her?" He didn't turn. "I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable." She walked further into the room, unimpressed by the answer. "Is that really the reason you're not saying anything? she asked. "Or is it because you're scared?" He shifted slightly but stayed silent. "She's not coming back anymore," the woman continued. "Her work here is done." "Maybe that's for the best," he said quietly. "Out of sight, out of mind." She leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Since when did you become such a negative individual?" A quiet laugh escaped him. Not amused, just honest. He looked out the window again. "Since I caught feelings for someone who's already taken..." The woman sighed, then sat on the edge of the table, studying him with the patience of someone who had watched this story unfold long before he admitted it to himself. "I've seen the way you look at her," she said, but there was no reaction whatsoever. "And I've seen the way she looks at you." "That doesn't change the fact that she's-" he started with his eyes closed, his expression painful. "She ended it. She's not going back." The words made his eyes snapped open. The woman tossed him his phone. "Call her."
Across the city, the streets of New Work were glowing under the last light of sunset. She'd been dreaming of living here. Orange reflections slid down glass buildings while traffic crawled through the avenues. People hurried along sidewalks with the usual restless rhythm of the city. She moved at an easier pace, enjoying the surroundings, the warmth of the evening light, the colors across the sky. Things got unexpectedly complicated and she was left with two options. She either went back to her country, to the life she was tired of, or risked everything and stayed. She chose to gave up her old life and follow her dreams.
She stopped at a traffic light, waiting. Opening her bag, she reached in to grab her lipstick. Instead, her fingers brushed against a folder. She froze. "Oh no..." her expression shifted instantly. She forgot to leave the photographs on the table. Her hand went back into the bag, searching for her phone. Her heart was pounding, but it was for a different reason. She unlocked the screen, already preparing to call him and explain the mistake. The images of their awkward goodbye flashed her mind. She swallowed and was about to press his name, but before she could, the phone rang. She blinked. The screen lit up with his contact. The timing felt almost strange. She answered immediately. "I was just about to call you-" "Can we talk?" he said. The urgency in his voice caught her off guard. "Yea...of course." "Where are you right now? I'll come to you." She looked around, recognizing a small café across the street." "I'm actually right across the street from the café where we met." A short pause. "Meet me there." The call ended. She lowered the phone slowly. For a moment her face stayed neutral, as if she was still processing what had just happened. Then a small, unavoidable smile appeared. And despite her best effort, it was impossible to hide.
