Chapter 1
The Meeting
The glass walls make everything look colder than it really is.
Kimberly sits straighter in her chair, pretending the nervous flutter in her chest is just the air-conditioning. Her reflection in the window looks composed, but the truth sits just beneath her ribs—a restlessness that started the night she packed her things and left the apartment she’d shared for seven years.
The meeting room door clicks open.
Footsteps. A pause. Then a voice—low, even, carrying the kind of confidence that makes silence feel deliberate.
“Is this the operations team?”
She looks up.
Charles. The name sits on the schedule in tidy black letters, but it doesn’t capture the weight he brings with him. Gray at his temples, crisp shirt sleeves rolled once, dark eyes that take in details without hurry.
“Yes,” she says, standing. Her voice comes out steadier than she feels. “I’m Kimberly. I’ll be coordinating this account.”
He nods once, then offers his hand. His grip is firm, not testing. “Pleasure.”
She tells herself it’s just work—clients, numbers, timelines. Still, when his hand leaves hers, the cool air that replaces it feels sharper.
During the presentation, she keeps her gaze on the slides, but awareness hums beneath her focus. His questions are concise, his tone courteous but unyielding. It reminds her of someone—
A memory flashes: raised voices, a slammed door, her ex insisting he knew better because he was older, wiser, more experienced.
Kimberly blinks it away.
By the end of the hour, her notes blur. She’s exhausted by her own composure. When the meeting closes, Charles gathers his folder and says quietly, “Good work. You don’t waste words.”
Neither do you, she almost says.
Instead, she nods, tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and watches him leave with that deliberate calm that makes her wonder what kind of storms he hides.
Outside, the corridor hums with fluorescent light. She exhales for what feels like the first time all day.
