The serpent I chose

Anna finished fixing the payment system at eleven forty-three, seventeen minutes before the meeting scheduled to discuss why it was still broken.

She ran the final simulation, watched the results settle into a neat column of green, and leaned back in her chair. Beyond the office windows, rain softened the buildings across the street. A maintenance drone drifted past the glass, trailing the faint blue light of an Avarran purification unit through the wet air.

Her tea had gone cold.

She drank it anyway, then sent the patch to her supervisor with a short explanation of the fault. The response arrived before she could close the message.

You’re a lifesaver. Canceling the meeting. Take a long lunch.

Anna smiled and reached for her phone.

Finished early. Want to get lunch? My treat.

She sent it to Daniel, then opened the little bakery’s menu. He’d mentioned wanting one of their steak sandwiches yesterday, leaning over her shoulder while she ordered groceries. She could get him one and still have time to stop at the garden shop before coming back.

His reply appeared a moment later.

Can’t, babe. Buried in inventory reports. Probably eating at my desk.

Want me to bring you something?

Already grabbed something. Thanks though ❤️

She set her phone down.

For a moment she considered going alone. The bakery had a sheltered courtyard, and she had a book in her bag that she’d been trying to finish for a week. Instead, she checked the time and stood. If she caught Megan before she left, perhaps they could go together.

Megan worked two floors below, in client services, close enough to Daniel’s department that the three of them often shared the elevator home. She’d joined the company eight months ago. Anna had liked her immediately—her easy conversation, her enthusiasm about everything from office gossip to the herbs growing on Anna’s kitchen windowsill.

Last Sunday, Megan had sat at their dining table until nearly ten.

Anna had packed leftovers for her.

The main elevators were crowded with people leaving for lunch, so she took the stairs. On the landing below the third floor, she stopped to answer a message from her supervisor asking where she’d found the integration fault.

She was halfway through typing when she heard Daniel laugh.

The sound came through the partly open door beneath her. She glanced down, already smiling, and moved toward it.

“Twenty minutes,” he said. “Then I really do have to go back.”

“You said that last time.”

Megan.

Something in her voice made Anna’s hand stop short of the railing.

It was softer than the voice she used at work. Familiar in a way Anna couldn’t immediately place, until she heard the small sound that followed.

A kiss.

Anna stood still.

Through the narrow gap between the door and its frame, she could see part of the corridor outside the second-floor records room. Daniel stood with his back to her, one hand resting at Megan’s waist. Megan’s fingers were hooked loosely into the front of his shirt.

The blue shirt Anna had taken out of the dryer that morning.

“You’re going to get us caught,” he murmured.

“You’re the one who followed me.”

He bent his head and kissed her again.

Anna’s phone dimmed in her hand.

She watched Megan tilt her face up to his, watched Daniel move closer with an eagerness Anna knew she hadn’t seen directed at her in months. There was nothing hesitant about it. Megan slid her hand around his neck as though she knew exactly where it belonged.

Anna stepped back before either of them could see her.

Her shoulder touched the cool wall. She looked down at her phone, at the unfinished sentence on the screen.

The old conversion layer was still routing through—

She couldn’t remember what came next.

Outside the stairwell, Megan said, “Are you staying Friday?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Another late inventory count?”

“Probably.”

Anna pressed her lips together.

There had been an inventory count two Fridays ago. She’d waited up with dinner until almost eleven before putting his plate in the refrigerator. He’d come home tired, kissed her forehead, and apologized for the hours.

She’d rubbed his shoulders while he ate.

“Megan.”

A third voice. A woman approaching along the corridor.

Anna recognized Claire from the moment she spoke again.

“You two are unbelievable. At least pretend you work here.”

Megan laughed. “We were just going.”

“Then go separately. Anna’s upstairs.”

There was a brief silence.

Anna held her breath.

“She’s in the systems meeting until one,” Daniel said.

It took Anna a moment to understand why that hurt so much.

She had told him about the meeting over breakfast. He’d been looking at his phone, but he’d heard enough to know when she would be occupied.

Claire sighed. “Fine. But don’t ask me to cover another Friday. I’m running out of believable reasons for girls’ night to keep getting canceled.”

Anna closed her eyes.

Last Friday, Claire had canceled drinks because of a migraine.

Anna had sent her a delivery voucher and told her to get some rest.

“How is she, anyway?” Megan asked.

“Who?”

“Anna.”

Daniel gave a small, puzzled laugh. “She’s fine.”

“Still paying for everything?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m asking.”

“We split things.”

“Daniel.”

He exhaled, sounding almost amused. “She earns three times what I do. She likes taking care of things.”

Anna lowered herself onto the stair behind her.

The concrete was cold through her trousers.

She had offered to cover more of the rent when his car needed repairs. Then his insurance had gone up, and there had been something with his credit card, and it had simply been easier to keep paying. He bought groceries occasionally. Took her to dinner when she reminded him they hadn’t been out in a while.

She had never thought of keeping score.

“When you get promoted,” Megan said, “you won’t need to keep doing this.”

Daniel said something too quietly for Anna to hear.

Then Megan laughed again, pleased this time.

Footsteps moved away. Claire’s heels clicked in the other direction. A door shut, and the corridor fell quiet.

Anna remained seated.

Somewhere above her, someone entered the stairwell. She stood automatically and moved aside as a man from accounting hurried past, offering a distracted nod.

She nodded back.

Her body seemed to know how to behave even though she couldn’t feel her hands properly.

Back on the fourth floor, the office looked exactly as she’d left it. Someone had put a box of pastries beside the coffee machine. Her supervisor was standing near a colleague’s desk, smiling at something on a monitor.

“Anna,” he called. “Excellent work on that patch.”

“Thank you.”

“Seriously. Enjoy your lunch.”

She managed a small smile and walked to her desk.

Her bag hung from the back of her chair. Beside her keyboard sat a framed photograph from the company’s summer picnic. Daniel had an arm around her shoulders. Megan stood on his other side, holding a drink. Claire was laughing at something beyond the camera.

Anna remembered that afternoon. She’d brought a blanket because Daniel hated sitting on the grass. Megan had borrowed her sunscreen.

She turned the photograph facedown.

Then she sat and opened her messages.

There was the heart Daniel had sent less than fifteen minutes ago. Above it were ordinary exchanges about milk, bills, dinner, whether she could pick up his prescription on her way home.

She scrolled farther.

You’re the best.

Don’t know what I’d do without you.

Can you cover it this month? I’ll make it up to you.

Her eyes began to sting. She set the phone down carefully and stared at the rain beyond the windows until she could breathe without her chest catching.

Three years.

She thought of him kissing her goodbye that morning. It had been a brief, comfortable kiss, his mouth tasting of the coffee she’d made. She’d straightened his collar before he left.

She had believed there was love in being familiar with someone. In knowing which cereal to buy, which towel he preferred, when he needed silence after work. Their relationship had never made her restless with wanting, but she’d trusted its steadiness. She had thought they were building something.

Her phone vibrated.

Actually, could you grab me that sandwich if you haven’t left yet? Starving.

Anna read the message twice.

Then she muted the conversation and put the phone in her bag.

She didn’t know what she was going to do when she got home. She couldn’t yet imagine looking at him across the kitchen counter, knowing where his hands had been.

But she knew she couldn’t stay at her desk waiting for another message.

Anna picked up her coat and left for lunch alone.