By noon, the newsroom was back to full volume. Savannah’s source for the education story canceled with no warning. One of her scripts bounced back from Aimee with a note so vague she couldn’t even be annoyed about it. Someone in graphics had mislabeled a file, which sent a ripple of confusion through the producers.
Savannah tried to stay steady. Tried to keep her voice even. Tried to keep every line of the day neat and controlled.
But her fingers shook when she recorded her track.
She had to stop and redo it twice.
On the third attempt, she saw movement behind the glass.
Tilly stood in the hallway outside the audio booth, coiling a cable slowly, eyes flicking up toward her like they had felt something off. Like they were paying attention even when she wasn’t looking. They didn’t knock or interrupt. They just waited there for a beat before walking on.
The moment hung in her chest long after they were gone.
Longer than anything else that day.
Later in the afternoon, Henry handed her another assignment for tomorrow, then scribbled something on his board that made little sense.
She walked past Tilly on her way back to her desk. They were restocking batteries in the gear closet, their back turned. She could have kept going.
She didn’t.
“You found the clip,” she said, stopping just shy of the doorway.
“I did,” they replied, still facing the shelves. “Figured you’d need it.”
Savannah nodded. “Thanks.”
A battery pack clicked into place on the rack. Tilly’s hands stayed there a second longer than necessary.
“You could’ve just asked me,” they added, quietly, like they were commenting on the weather.
Heat crept up Savannah’s neck. “Harper was right there.”
“Yeah,” Tilly said.
Not sharp. Not upset. Just a fact.
They finally turned, meeting her eyes for the briefest second, and she felt it all over again—sharp, immediate, impossible to ignore.
“It’s in the folder now,” they said. “All set.”
Right.
Simple.
Work.
“Okay,” Savannah said.
She waited one beat too long before leaving.
Savannah left the station when the sky had already turned that heavy gray that always made the city feel colder. Her legs were tired. Her shoulders were sore. Her head ached.
She unlocked her apartment and stepped into the same quiet she had been trying not to acknowledge all week. She set her keys down. Hung her coat. Stood there in the middle of her living room with her arms crossed tight.
She thought about texting someone.
Her sister.
