She didn’t say anything at first. Just turned off the engine and sat there, both hands still gripping the steering wheel.
The sound of the cooling engine faded into the low hum of the city outside.
Her jaw was tight — the kind of tight that ca right before words.
The kind that ant she’d been holding them back for too long.
She looked back at the windshield, then finally spoke. "I’m I a joke to you, Kai?"
I frowned but stayed quiet.
She took a deep breath, eyes still on the windshield. "I must look like one."
"Tasha..."
"Don’t," she cut in, voice trembling at the edges. "Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about."
I turned my head toward her, but she still wouldn’t look at . "I don’t see why I should explain anything to you."
"Still," she muttered, her voice soft but strained. "You... you shouldn’t have just—" She paused, biting down a breath. "I don’t know, let her walk you in like that."
Her tone wasn’t loud, but it cut deeper than if she’d shouted.
I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my voice calm. "You can literally see the ring on my finger, Tasha."
I didn’t an for it to sound sharp... but it did.
Her head snapped toward , eyes narrowing. "You’re not even married to her."
That one stung — not because it was true, but because she said it like it ant sothing.
I turned to face her fully. "I will be," I added quietly. "In ti."
She scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. "You don’t know that, Kai. You don’t even know if she loves you as much as you think she does."
The words hit harder than they should have.
For a second, I just stared at her — not exactly angry, not even shouting, just... glaring, because anything else might’ve made it worse.
Her glare faltered a little when she noticed. The edge in her voice softened. "I... I didn’t an it like that."
"You obviously did."
Silence.
She looked down at her hands, her knuckles pale against the steering wheel. "I just ant... she doesn’t seem like the type who—"
I cut her off before she could finish. "Don’t."
Her lips pressed together. The sound of traffic outside filled the space between us.
I leaned back against the seat, eyes on the dashboard. "Can we just... go to where we’re supposed to?"
She stared at for a long second. Then, without another word, she nodded.
The engine started again, quiet but sharp in the silence that followed. She pulled out slowly, her focus locked on the road.
I didn’t say anything else, and neither did she.
But as the city blurred past the windows, I could still feel the weight of her words sitting sowhere deep in my chest — not because I believed her, but because for a brief, stupid second... I’d seen the hurt behind them.
And I hated that part of that almost felt sorry for her.
---
The eting at Bilmirage Enterprise was a blur.
Tasha sohow managed to hold herself together like nothing had happened so minutes before. Calm voice, steady tone, polite smiles — the perfect professional.
If soone had walked in halfway, they’d think we were just two coworkers who worked well together.
? I buried myself in the numbers. It was easier that way. Spreadsheets didn’t glare, and formulas never misunderstood your tone.
By the ti we wrapped up, the representative from Bilmirage was smiling and shaking our hands, talking about next quarter projections and possible retainer extensions. Tasha handled it perfectly. I just nodded along, matching her energy like we hadn’t almost gone for each other’s throats an hour ago.
As soon as we stepped back into her car, she let out a long breath and leaned her head against the seat.
"I’m... sorry."
I didn’t reply at first. Mostly because I wasn’t sure what to even say anymore. Apologies didn’t really fix things like this.
She spoke again, her voice smaller this ti.
"Kai. I..." She stopped for a second, then continued, "I get it. You love her. And I... I respect that."
I turned to look at her. "Do you?"
She froze, then looked down at her hands resting on the steering wheel.
"What do you want to do then?"
I frowned. "What do you an?"
She gave a small, tired laugh. "You make it sound so simple. Like feelings have an on and off switch."
For a second, I almost sighed. "Tasha..."
Her eyes stayed on her hands, knuckles pale. "It’s not easy, you know."
I stayed quiet, because every word coming from her felt like a soft weapon — quiet, careful, but still trying to find a way in.
If I didn’t know better, I might’ve even fallen for it. But I live with Celestia Valentina Moreau — the queen of subtle manipulation.
Nothing Tasha said sounded new to .
So I just took a slow breath and said, "Tasha, you’re a wonderful woman. Any guy would be lucky to have you. But... I’m not on that list."
She didn’t say anything for a long mont. Then she gave a small nod, started the engine, and began driving back toward Gray & Milton.
The rest of the ride was silent — not the tense kind from earlier, just... empty. I looked out the window most of the way, thinking about how easy it was for things to get ssy.
When we finally pulled up at the parking lot, she shifted the gear into park and sat there for a second, hands still on the wheel.
"Thanks," she said quietly, still not looking at .
I nodded once. "Yeah."
We both got out at the sa ti. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked off toward the building without another word.
I watched her for a mont — just long enough to see her disappear through the glass doors — before heading in myself.
And as the doors closed behind , I couldn’t help thinking that even though she said she respected it... part of her still hadn’t accepted it.
---
To be continued...
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