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“Good morning, Alexander.”

He gestured toward the chair opposite him. “This is my favorite way to begin the day.”

“Breakfast in the Fellows’ Dining Room?”

A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Among other things.”

Warmth crept into my cheeks. I sat down as he handed my coffee to me. It was perfect. A few familiar faces greeted Alexander as they passed our table. Their eyes lingered on me just a heartbeat longer before they continued toward their own breakfasts.

We left our responsibilities where they belonged for now. Neither of us mentioned the reconstruction, the investigation, or the new security measures. Instead, the conversation wandered elsewhere: the conservatory in autumn, the orange and yellow leaves against the bare stone paths in the garden, the opera scheduled for the following month. Small, ordinary things that felt far more important over breakfast together.

When our coffee grew cold, we walked together toward the Research Pavilion. The air outside was crisp. We parted ways once the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor.

It was an ordinary breakfast. I couldn’t wait to do it again.

Priya was at her workstation when I walked in. One look at her face told me something had gone right.

“The inhibitor assay,” she said, before I could ask.

I crossed to look at her screen. The assay had run overnight. It was the first trial of the new series using the rebuilt cell culture stock. I had to remind myself that it was early. Preliminary. One experiment. And it was consistent with our previous findings.

This was a big deal. We had reproduced the same results using the rebuilt cell culture system. The hypoxia effect wasn’t limited to the original cultures.

“This can be included in your abstract for Vienna.”

“Already started.”

“This is excellent work, Priya.”

She gave the smallest shrug. “It was a team effort.”

It always was. From the beginning, I had wanted to build a team where curiosity mattered more than credit. We challenged one another, questioned one another, and celebrated one another without keeping score.

Later that morning, I took the elevator to meet with Dr. Daniel Brooks on the Clinical Research Board. I had sent him Aurora’s updated data and wanted to discuss trial projections and timelines. My eyes caught on the ninth-floor button as the elevator climbed. I still hadn’t forgotten the red light that had appeared when I’d tried it weeks ago. The doors opened on ten, and I walked to the conference room. The meeting took less time than I expected. I was heading back toward the elevators when I saw Julian coming down the corridor. He noticed me at almost the same time, and we stopped.

“Hello, Emilia. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Julian. And you?”

“I’m well. How is the rebuild going?”

“Surprisingly fast. Things are very efficient around here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

There was a slight pause. Under other circumstances, I would have shared our hypoxia findings. He had a greater understanding of the project based on his previous work with Helix and I would have appreciated another perspective on our direction. But the notice about the suspension had been clear. No exchange of project data pending further notice.

“I’m sorry about the collaboration,” I said.

“So am I.”

“Given everything that has happened, I understand why Research Administration would want to limit outside collaboration until the security situation is resolved.”

Julian nodded. “So do I. I hope it won’t be for too long.”

“Neither do I.”

The elevator chimed behind us.