The afternoon sun dipped behind the Dynamite building, leaving Keigh's office washed in muted gold. Papers lay spread across his desk, but he hadn't touched them in nearly an hour. His father's words still echoed in his mind.... duty, stability, legacy, the same script he'd heard his whole life.
He was scrolling through his inbox, trying to lose himself in work, when her name appeared.
Nara.
His pulse jumped before he could stop it.
He opened her email immediately.
---
Hi Keigh,
Thank you for considering me for the event. Unfortunately, I won't be able to take it on this time…....
The words blurred for a second.
He sat back slowly, jaw tightening as he read the rest.
Short. Polite. Distant.
Professionally perfect and personally cutting.
When he finished reading, he let the silence settle around him. She said no. Nara never said no. Not like this, not to him.
He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, dragging a hand through his hair. Something about the message felt too controlled, too neutral. Like she was trying to stand far away from something she didn't want to touch.
A humorless breath slipped from him.
Of course she didn't want to handle his parents' anniversary.
Of course she kept her tone clean.
Of course she chose the safe answer.
He respected her for it.
But it still stung.
He opened the email again, reading it slowly this time, searching between the lines for something, anything that said she might have wanted to say yes.
Nothing.
He closed the screen and leaned back in his chair, eyes closing for a moment. His office suddenly felt smaller. Tighter.
After a long beat, he whispered into the empty room, "Why does this bother me so damn much?"
Because he trusted her.
Because she had a touch that made things feel effortless.
Because she steadied rooms without even trying.
Because losing that, losing her, in any form, felt like losing something he shouldn't have let slip the first time.
He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling.
"Complicated," he muttered. The word felt bitter on his tongue.
His phone buzzed. A message from his mother asking about the anniversary plans.
He stared at it for a long time… then typed back:
I'll find someone else.
He didn't add the truth, he didn't want someone else.
But he also didn't want to push Nara where she didn't want to go.
He closed his laptop, the office dimming around him, and whispered her name once more, not out of frustration, but out of the quiet ache she always left behind.
"Nara…"