No return date.No context.
Just a single sentence trying very hard not to be suspicious.
No follow-up.No concern.Just Andra, with her bullet-point detachment, sliding into his seat like it was warmed up for her.
I stare at it longer than I need to.
Two days pass.I heal.
Or at least, I stop actively leaking.The swelling fades.The pain gets boring.My jaw moves without catching.
I tell myself it’s over.That it’s behind me.
I return to the office.
By the time I come back in, I’ve convinced myself no one remembers.That the blood’s been mopped.That the carpet’s been replaced.That I’m not the punchline of the week.
And then I walk into the break room.
Stewy’s eating a banana like he’s trying to make it uncomfortable.He grins when he sees me.
“You look good for someone who bled out in a conference room,” he says with a grin.
“Thanks.”
He shrugs.“Hey, they say loyalty looks good in red.”
A beat.Then, like he’s logging an equipment failure: “Honestly?I’m surprised the boss patched you up.Usually once the body breaks, he just gets a new one.”
“Wow,” I say.“Did Legal sign off on that line?”
A slow smile creeps up.“What are they gonna do?Fire me?IamLegal.”
I open the cabinet, try to look disinterested, pick up a mug, set it down.I’m not drinking anything.My mouth still tastes like gauze and regret.
He doesn’t take the hint.
“I’m sure Ellis sends his regards.”
I pause.Glance over.
He bites into his banana, then talks around it.“From wherever he is…off-site.Private property.No signal.Company blackout zone.You know it’s serious when they cut the feed.”
“Business serious?”I ask.“Or the other kind.”
Stewy gives me a look.The kind people give toddlers trying to count to eleven on their fingers.
“You don’t know,” he says.“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Too soon.Copy that.”
I stare at him—he stares back.
Then: “He’s with Gillian.”
That lands too cleanly.Like it’s been waiting.Like he’s been dying to say it since I walked in.