Katherine let out a sigh and stared straight ahead at the elevator’s polished doors as they slid shut with a chi. Of course. As if this night hadn’t already hit its low point, now she was trapped in a moving tal box with the one man she least wanted to see.
Her shoulders tightened. She kept her arms crossed tightly over her chest, every inch of her posture screaming distance. Leonard stood at the other side of the elevator, but even that minimal space between them felt too close. She couldn’t help but notice him all the ti—his presence, the way his cologne lingered faintly in the air, how he hadn’t said a word since stepping inside.
Why did the elevator feel smaller than usual?
Katherine begged the universe for a miracle—maybe soone else could step in at the next floor and disrupt this unbearable silence. Or better yet, maybe the elevator could move just a little faster to the twelfth floor and free her from this pressure. She glanced up at the glowing floor indicator. Still on three. Slow as hell.
She tilted her head toward the ceiling, trying to focus on the elevator music trickling from above—sothing vaguely jazzy, probably intended to soothe—but it only made her more irritated.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the reflection of Leonard in the mirrored wall. He wasn’t watching the numbers tick by. He was watching her.
She tensed.
When she turned her head sharply to tell him to stop staring, she startled at how close he suddenly was. Leonard had moved silently, crossing the space between them. Now, both of his hands were braced on the railing behind her, effectively boxing her in. Her back hit the corner wall, and her breath caught in her throat.
"What the hell are you doing, Leonard?" she snapped, eyes blazing as she looked up at him.
He didn’t flinch. If anything, his expression softened—as if this confrontation was sothing he welcod. "It’s nice to hear you say my na," he replied. "Without all the formality you’ve been using all this ti."
Her jaw clenched. "Move away. There’s still plenty of space over there," she hissed, motioning with her chin toward the far corner.
He didn’t move. His gaze remained fixed on her. "You’ve changed, Katherine. But then again, I guess so have I."
She glared at him. "This isn’t about you changing. You cheated. You lied. You broke a marriage like it was nothing. So don’t co here acting like so reford man just because you found out you have kids."
Leonard’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to say sothing sharp in return, but he swallowed it down. Instead, his voice dipped quieter. "I didn’t know. About the twins. You never gave the chance to know."
Katherine’s eyes narrowed. "You think you earned that chance? You think you’d have made a good father back then?" She gave a cold laugh. "You were too busy playing house with soone else while destroying the one you already had."
His face twitched—guilt, frustration, regret—it passed like a stormcloud. "You’re right. I wasn’t the man you needed to be. But I’m trying now."
"Now?" she repeated bitterly. "Now that you figured out the truth?"
He reached out slowly, maybe to touch her arm, maybe to ground her. She jerked away before he could.
"Katherine—"
"Don’t say my na like that," she bit out. "Don’t you dare."
The elevator slowed suddenly. The small ding announced a stop on the seventh floor. Relief washed over her—finally, soone would step in and break this suffocating tension.
But the mont the doors opened, her hope crashed.
A young man in a hotel uniform stood outside, eyes wide as he took in the scene. The man gasped. "Oh—uh—sorry! Didn’t realize you two were having a... mont," he muttered awkwardly, and with a quick bow of his head, he turned and all but fled down the hallway.
The elevator doors closed again.
Katherine’s jaw dropped. "Great," she muttered. "Now he thinks I’m the type to screw my ex-husband in an elevator."
Leonard almost chuckled, but one look from her silenced him.
"You find this funny?" she growled.
"No," he said, his smile fading. "I don’t."
Silence fell again, only this ti it simred with emotion. Regret. Anger. And sothing unspoken that had hung between them since the day their marriage fell apart.
"I never stopped wondering about you," Leonard said quietly. "Even after everything. There was always sothing missing. And now I know what it was. Them. Nathan and Maya."
Katherine turned her face away, her expression tightening. Her fingers curled around the strap of her purse until her knuckles turned white. "You don’t get to talk about them like that. You weren’t there. You don’t even know them."
"I want to," Leonard said, taking a step closer. "Please, Katherine. Just—let try."
She shoved him away with both hands. "I don’t care what you want!"
The elevator dinged again.
Twelfth floor.
The doors slid open.
Katherine walked out imdiately, not sparing him another look. She didn’t care how loud she sounded. She just needed distance.
Of course, he followed.
She heard the elevator chi again as it closed behind him. Her fists clenched.
She stopped abruptly and spun on her heel. "Stop following !"
Leonard halted, brows furrowed. "Katherine—"
She raised her clutch like a shield and jabbed it in his direction. "Don’t make report you for stalking."
Leonard opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance.
She turned and began walking again, faster this ti. But her heel caught on the carpet runner, and she stumbled with a soft gasp.
Leonard rushed forward, instinct kicking in. "Are you okay?" he asked, reaching for her elbow.
"Don’t touch ," she snapped, wrenching her arm from his grasp. Her voice broke slightly at the end, more from frustration than pain. "Just—leave alone."
She limped the rest of the way down the corridor, her ankle sore from the fall, but her pride hurt even more. Leonard didn’t chase her again, but she could feel his eyes on her, heavy as stones.
When she reached her room, she fumbled with the keycard for a second before getting it to work. The door opened and she stepped in, slamming it shut behind her with a force that echoed down the hallway.
And then—
Silence.
She stood just behind the door, her breath shaking, heart pounding. Her hand still on the handle.
Her eyes burned—but she didn’t cry.
She didn’t even know what she felt. Anger. Sha. Bitterness. A strange, dull ache that settled sowhere in her chest and refused to move.
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