I walked toward his office.
Each step slower than the last.
When I reached the doorway, I paused.
He stood with his back to me, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt now, his reflection faintly visible in the glass behind his desk.
Even without seeing his face directly, I could feel the distance in him.
It was louder than any argument.
He knew I was there.
But he didn’t turn.
Didn’t speak.
Didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and suffocating, filled with everything we had said—and everything we hadn’t.
My chest tightened slightly.
A quiet sigh slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
Then I turned away.
And walked out.
The hallway felt colder somehow, emptier, the tension from his office still clinging to me like a second skin as I made my way downstairs.
Ramiro was waiting near the reception area, exactly where I expected him to be.
He glanced at me once but said nothing.
“We should get going,” I said, keeping my voice even despite the storm still brewing inside me.
He nodded once, falling into step beside me without question.
We moved through the building in quiet sync, the soft echo of our footsteps blending with the fading hum of the workday.
Outside, the black luxury car waited.
It gleamed under the fading sunlight, polished to perfection.
Ramiro stepped ahead to open the door for me, his movements smooth. I slid inside, the leather seats cool and supple beneath me.
For a moment, I just sat there, letting it settle.
The contrast between the chaos in my chest and the calm perfection of everything around me felt almost surreal.
Ramiro circled the front of the car and slipped into the driver’s seat.
The door shut with a soft, solid click, sealing us inside.
He adjusted his cuffs once, then glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his gaze sharp but neutral.
“I was under the impression you and Rafael would be leaving together.”
