Page 19 of Their Arrangement

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Like I was a problem he hadn’t decided how to solve.

Then, slowly—so slowly—it made my spine lock withanticipation, he pushed off the railing. One step. Two. Unhurried. Controlled.

He turned.

And disappeared through a door at the end of the hall.

No glance back.

No parting words.

Just absence.

But even when he was gone, I still felt him.

In my pulse.

In the sweat beading at the small of my back.

In the shame that slid down my spine and pooled behind my knees.

In the tight coil of heat between my thighs that made me hate myself.

I shifted again. Tried to breathe.

The computer froze.

Again.

I clicked once.

Nothing.

Twice.

Still nothing.

Three times.

The screen blinked.

Then went black.

I sat there a moment longer, staring at the dead screen like it might come back to life and explain something to me. Like it might confirm what I already knew—that I didn’t belong here. That I was a trespasser in heels that clicked too loud and hope that burned too bright.

My eyes stung.

My throat ached with all the things I hadn’t said. All the words I’d swallowed since I walked into this building.

I wasn’t crying.

Not yet.

I wasn’t allowed to cry here.

There wasn’t space for softness. Not in this borrowed blouse. Not in this cursed desk at the end of the hall. Not in this glass-and-gold world where everyone else had names that mattered and mine was written on a Post-it.

The light above me buzzed.

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