Everyone had already left for the day. The building was quiet, the air soft, static. A low hum buzzed, from maybe the heater.
And I worked.
I ignored the pain in my limbs.
I ignored the fatigue in my eyeballs.
I locked in, focused, and then?—
“Done.”
A long exhale left my lungs. Holyshit.I did it. I blinked at the blacktext on the screen:Submission Received.I printed a copy to place with Jenna, heading out of my office and to hers.
As I placed the papers on her desk, a sticky melancholy clung to my happiness—how much had I given up because I didn’t want to let go? My thoughts drifted back to Calder?—
Clang.
A metallic clatter echoed from what sounded like my office. Followed by another, and another—like someone was yanking at my desk.
It was eleven forty-five. No one should be here.
A shot of cortisol lit up my spine. I was suddenly alert. Aware. And noticing the closest weapon. I grabbed a heavy paperweight replica of the Milky Way and tiptoed down the hall. My phone was in my office, so I couldn’t call the police. I couldn’t get to the elevator and stairs without passing by.
I gripped the weight harder as I reached the door. I would sprint past, to the stairs, and?—
“Graham?” I froze, unable to compute what I was seeing: my ex-fiancé trying to get into my desk.
At my voice, Graham spun around. In all the years I’d known him, he was alwayssoput together. He never left the house without freshly washed hair, cologne, and an ironed shirt.
Now he was…fucked up.
Dark circles hollowing his eyes. Greasy hair. Wrinkled clothes.
“Let me into your computer.” His words shook with manic vibration.
“What? Why?”
“Just fucking do it.” Graham took a step to me and I took one back. “I dideverythingfor you. All I want is this one goddamn thing.”
Graham used to say that alotto me. How he did everything. He did the laundry. He did the dishes. All because I was sick and broken.
And I believed him.
But…
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You didn’t do anything for me.”
We lived together for a year after we got engaged, and he didn’t do the dishesorthe laundry once. There was a reason he would yell about the laundry not being done when I was sick…because he wasn’t fucking doing it.
“Are you breaking into my office?” I asked. It didn’t make sense. There was no reason for Graham to break into my office. There was nothing for him here. But this was the second time I’d seen him here after hours.
His laugh was high pitched and wrong. Unstable. “You’re crazy like your fucking sister. Your dad left you, and you all turned fucking batshit. Why would I break into your office?”
I swallowed.
Adrenaline made my veins buzz and vibrate. Graham used to be my compass. But I was realizing that that compass never pointed true. I just believed him because it was easier than believing myself.
“You broke in,” I said, forcing myself to stand up straighter. “What reason do you have to be in my office at near midnight?”
