"Uh... Val—it’s..."
The words barely made it out of my throat. My mind scrambled for sothing—anything—that didn’t sound like a confession, an excuse, or a plea for divine intervention.
She stood in the doorway, still holding that food flask like it was so kind of evidence. For a mont, I thought she’d say sothing sharp or storm out or—God forbid—throw the flask. But she didn’t.
Instead, she took a slow, steady breath. The kind she only took when she was trying not to explode.
Then she started walking toward us.
Her heels clicked against the tile, each step deliberate. My pulse thudded in ti with them. Tasha straightened beside , unsure of what to do, her hand still resting on the lid of the flask she’d brought.
Val reached the desk, set her flask down—right next to Tasha’s—and then turned to her with the kind of calm smile that should’ve terrified anyone paying attention.
> "You must be the team leader."
Tasha blinked. It took her a second to respond, like she was still processing what was happening. "Uh—yeah. Tasha."
Val extended a hand, her smile unwavering. "Celestia."
The handshake lasted a little too long to be polite. Val’s grip wasn’t tight, but it didn’t need to be. The confidence in her eyes did the rest.
When they finally let go, Tasha’s gaze—almost involuntarily—dropped to Val’s left hand.
The ring caught the light perfectly.
Val noticed. Of course she did. Her lips curved slightly, and she lifted her hand a little, tilting it so the ring shone more clearly.
"Oh, this little thing?" she said, tone feather-light, every syllable dipped in sweetness. "My husband got it for . Cute, isn’t it?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to chew on.
Tasha’s jaw tightened, just barely, before she gave a polite nod. "It’s... nice."
Her eyes flicked toward for the briefest second—just enough to sting—before she said, "I’ll, uh... leave you guys to talk."
I opened my mouth to say sothing, anything to smooth over the situation, but Val was still smiling.
The kind of smile that said don’t interfere.
So, I didn’t.
Tasha turned to leave, already clutching the strap of her bag, but before she made it to the door, Val’s voice ca again.
> "Ms. Team Leader?"
Tasha froze mid-step, shoulders stiffening before she slowly turned around.
Val gestured lazily toward the desk with one finger, her tone light and innocent. "You’re forgetting sothing."
Tasha’s eyes followed the gesture—to the food flask she’d left behind.
For a second, she just stood there, like she was debating pretending she didn’t hear. But Val didn’t blink. Her smile didn’t falter.
If anything, it deepened, eyes narrowing just a touch—like a lion stretching before the pounce.
Tasha walked back slowly. She picked up the flask, her fingers gripping it tighter than necessary. When she straightened, her gaze t Val’s.
Neither blinked.
Val’s smirk widened ever so slightly, the kind of expression that didn’t need words to say I could do worse than this. Much worse.
Tasha exhaled through her nose, looked down, and muttered, "Right." Then she turned and walked out the door.
The second it closed, silence crashed over the room.
I blinked. Once then twice. Trying to piece together what just happened.
Val had just... neutralized an entire emotional bomb in less than two minutes—without raising her voice, without a single insult, without even sounding remotely upset.
She’d just... handled it. Completely.
And now she was standing there, her back straight, shoulders squared, her expression unreadable.
Then—slowly—she turned her head toward .
The smile was gone.
In its place was a look that could only be described as sharp. Not furious. Not explosive. Just sharp enough to slice straight through whatever weak excuse I might’ve been planning.
"Val..." I started, my voice careful.
She didn’t say anything.
She just stared.
It wasn’t the glare of soone about to scream—it was the look of soone thinking. Calculating. The kind that ant she wasn’t going to react right away. And that was sohow a lot scarier.
I opened my mouth again, but the words stuck in my throat.
Because what could I say?
That it wasn’t what it looked like? That would sound cliché. That I didn’t expect Tasha to bring food? Also true, but weak.
I looked down at the food flask sitting on my desk, still sealed and perfect.
Val finally spoke, her voice calm, too calm. "You’ve had... quite a morning, haven’t you?"
I swallowed. "Val it’s not..."
Her eyes softened for barely a second.
"I’ll let you enjoy your lunch," she said quietly. "Wouldn’t want to interrupt... whatever this was."
She turned away and walked out the door.
I exhaled, running a hand down my face. My heart was still pounding, and I wasn’t even sure which part had shaken more—Tasha’s unexpected move or Val’s terrifyingly composed reaction.
But now she was gone.
And judging by the look she’d given before she walked out, I had a feeling the real explosion was just waiting for at ho.
---
I sat there long after she’d walked out, the air in the office heavy enough to drown in. My appetite was gone, but the sight of the flask she’d brought, still sitting there on my desk made it worse. It wasn’t just any flask — it was one of those set types, the kind that ca in tiers, ant for full als, not just quick bites. The kind you only used when you really put ti and effort into it. And knowing Val... she definitely had.
I stared at it for a long ti before finally reaching for the lid. Steam curled up imdiately, carrying the familiar scent of sautéed garlic and butter — her scent.
She’d made stir-fried noodles with shrimp, perfectly arranged with slices of egg roll on the side. The smaller flask held soup — light miso, I guessed from the sll — and the last one had fruit she’d cut into neat cubes, each wrapped with care like it mattered.
It hit then, how deliberate it all was. She’d already been up early this morning, already gone out of her way to make things feel normal between us. And after all that, she’d still taken the ti to co all the way here — just to see , just to be close. And sohow, I’d managed to make her look like the uninvited one in the middle of a misunderstanding she didn’t even create.
The guilt ca fast, then sha, then sothing heavier that made my chest feel tight. I hadn’t even taken a bite yet, and sohow it already hurt.
Still, not eating would make things worse. So I picked up the chopsticks, twirled so noodles, and took a bite.
And that was it.
The taste, it was good. Too good. Perfect seasoning, balanced texture, a hint of lemon she only used when she was trying to make sothing "refreshing." It wasn’t just food; it was Val.
I let out a low sigh, chewing slowly, hating how hungry I actually was. Sohow, that made feel even worse than I already felt. Because it ant I could still enjoy this even when I’d just seen the disappointnt in her eyes.
When I was done, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the flask. My thumb hovered over my phone screen — her na glowing at the top of my recent calls.
I wanted to call. I wanted to explain. But what could I even say? "Sorry you walked in on my team leader trying to feed "? Yeah, that’d fix everything.
I checked the ti instead. Lunch break would be over in five minutes. I sighed, locked the phone, and set it face down.
Tasha didn’t say another word to for the rest of the day. No instructions. No questions. Not even the occasional work-related chatter she usually threw in between tasks. It was silent. That made it both easier and harder.
Easier, because I didn’t have to deal with her.
Harder, because the tension sat like smoke in the air — invisible, but impossible to ignore.
Even Derrick seed to notice sothing was off but he didn’t push.
By the ti the clock hit closing, the office was mostly empty. I powered down my computer, staring at the dark screen a little too long, trying to figure out what I’d even say when I saw Val again.
"Hey," I said finally, glancing at Derrick. "Could you, uh... give a ride to the nearest bus stop?"
He frowned. "What happened to your billionaire ride service?"
"Ha-ha. Very funny."
He chuckled. "I’m serious though, what happened to your ride? They bail on you already?"
I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sothing like that."
As I picked up my briefcase, I risked a glance toward Tasha’s desk — only to find her looking right at . She didn’t even pretend to look away this ti. Her expression was unreadable, sowhere between guilt and sothing else I couldn’t na.
"Ready?" Derrick asked, clapping on the shoulder.
"Yeah."
We walked out together. The parking lot was quieter than usual — the kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder.
Derrick unlocked his car with a beep, and I was just about to reach for the door when I heard the low hum of an engine.
A sleek Aston Martin eased into the lot, the headlights cutting through the twilight. My chest tightened the mont I saw it.
Val.
She parked neatly in front of us, engine purring low before shutting off.
Derrick whistled. "Damn. Guess your ride changed their mind."
I forced a smile. "Yeah. Guess so."
He grinned, slapping my back. "You’re living the dream, man. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah... see you."
He drove off, leaving there, standing in the fading light.
Val didn’t get out of the car. She just sat there, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead. Through the windshield, I could see her expression — calm, composed, unreadable.
And I froze.
Because for all the words I’d prepared — every apology, every explanation — none of them seed enough.
I’d seen Val angry before. Seen her cry, seen her frustrated. But this?
This quiet stillness — this silence — was worse than all of it.
I stood there, watching her.
As the last few cars left the lot, I realized sothing I didn’t want to admit —
I’d rather she yelled. I’d rather she slamd the door, or called out, or did anything that broke the silence between us.
Because silence ant distance.
And for the first ti in a long ti, I couldn’t tell how to bridge it.
So I just stood there.
Watching her.
And waiting.
---
To be continued...
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