Nara's apartment was unusually quiet after Zuri left for an early rehearsal. The morning energy laughing, teasing, crumbs of toast everywhere —had faded into stillness.
Nara sat on the couch with her laptop open, planner beside her, coffee growing cold on the table. She'd been staring at the same email draft for twenty minutes.
Decline politely. Professional tone. No emotion.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard… and stopped again.
The message from Keigh still floated at the top of her screen. She read it a fourth time, then closed her eyes, exhaling shakily.
"This shouldn't be this hard," she whispered to herself.
Her phone buzzed..... Zuri.
> Did you respond to mystery-heart-attack-man yet?
Nara rolled her eyes, typing back slowly.
> It's work. And no.
A typing bubble appeared instantly.
> Girl. You're overthinking. Just say yes.
Nara didn't reply.
Instead, she opened the email draft again and she tried typing:
"Unfortunately, I won't be available...."
Delete.
"Thank you for considering me..."
Delete.
Her stomach tightened every time she imagined seeing him again. The last time they'd been in the same room, she'd gone home feeling unsteady for hours afterward.
Working with him always left her feeling… unsettled. She didn't want that kind of vulnerability around his family.
Around him.
Nara exhaled shakily.
She typed slowly, deliberately:
---
To: Keigh Dynamite
Subject: RE: Anniversary Dinner Coordination
Hi Keigh,
Thank you for considering me for the event. Unfortunately, I won't be able to take it on this time. My schedule this month is tighter than usual, and I don't want to commit to something I can't give my full attention to.
I can recommend a colleague who specializes in intimate family events. Let me know if you'd like their details.
Best,
Nara
---
She stared at the message.
Professional. Clean. Safe.
Her chest tightened.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pressed Send. The email leaving her outbox felt like a small, dull ache, the kind of ache that came from choosing the sensible thing over the thing your heart wasn't sure how to deal with.
She set her phone aside and leaned into the couch cushions, staring at nothing.
She should feel relieved.
She should feel in control.
Instead, all she felt was the throbbing silence of something unspoken, something she wasn't ready to name, settling quietly around her.
A choice made.
A door closed.