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.