The morning after the disastrous meeting, the office felt wrong.
Not loud.
Not quiet.
Just… off.
The kind of stillness that presses against your lungs, heavy and waiting, as if the whole building was holding its breath.
Kael Navarro sat in his chair, staring at the glowing screen in front of him. He'd been "working" for hours — yet no numbers stuck, no graphs made sense. The more he tried to focus, the more his mind drifted back to yesterday.
To her.
To Amara, standing in the conference room with that calm, unreadable face.
To the way she bowed gently and walked out without looking at him even once.
His throat tightened at the memory.
He had seen her angry before.
He had seen her flustered, shy, nervous, embarrassed.
But that… that cold, quiet indifference?
It rattled him.
He rubbed his temples hard, trying to shake off the pounding in his skull.
He'd gone too far again.
And he knew it.
He always knew it after the damage was done.
But the guilt twisting in him wasn't the only thing there. It was tangled with something uglier — a tight, unyielding knot of jealousy.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her sitting next to Damian Sinclair.
Talking softly.
Smiling faintly.
Her expression relaxed in a way it had stopped being around him.
That smile used to be his.
The thought made his chest burn.
He leaned back, staring up at the ceiling as if it could give him answers. The last few weeks replayed in fragments — her polite nods, her calm tone, the way she no longer flinched or blushed or stumbled around him.
She didn't look at him the same way anymore.
She didn't look for him anymore.
He didn't know when it started, but one morning he woke up and realized she had already drifted out of his reach.
"Good morning, Mr. Navarro," she would say, smiling lightly — the same professional, distant smile she offered everyone else.
Not Kael.
Not even "sir" with softness.
Just Mr. Navarro — like he was a stranger.
He clenched his jaw at the memory.
He missed the way she used to say his name — quiet, hesitant, affectionate without meaning to be. He missed her nervous stutters, her shy laughter, and the way she used to brighten when he entered a room.
Now, she never brightened.
She barely looked.
He had taken her softness for granted — assumed it was always there, always waiting for him.
He had assumed she would always be there.
And that assumption had been his ruin.
For days he tried to keep his composure, telling himself that it was temporary. That she just needed space. That she would eventually come back — she always did.
She loved him.
He knew she did.
He convinced himself she still did.
Kael Navarro didn't confess.
He didn't break.
He didn't chase.
He believed she would return — because she always had.
But this time… this time felt different.
And he was too proud to face why.
The next day, he decided to try — not to apologize, not yet, but to… talk.
To close the distance.
To pull her back toward him, just a little.
He found her at her desk, glasses low on her nose as she typed. Her focus was sharp, her expression calm — she didn't even notice him at first.
He hated that he liked watching her.
He hated more that she looked peaceful without him.
He stepped forward.
"Amara," he said, quieter than usual.
She blinked up at him, surprised. "Y-Yes, Mr. Navarro?"
He hesitated. His heart thudded unpleasantly against his ribs.
"I was wondering if you're free this evening," he said. "I… would like to talk. Over dinner."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Dinner?"
"Yes."
Silence stretched. She looked conflicted — hesitant — almost nervous.
"I'm not sure that's necessary," she murmured. "I already have plans—"
"Amara," a calm voice interrupted.
Damian Sinclair.
Kael's shoulders tensed before he even turned.
Damian approached with a file in hand, offering Amara a warm, easy smile.
"We're due at the operations site," he reminded her. "We should leave now if we want to avoid traffic."
Kael felt something sharp twist in his chest.
Her plans… were with him.
"Operations site?" Kael asked, trying to sound neutral.
Amara nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. I'm accompanying Mr. Sinclair to review the reports."
"I see." His tone cooled. "Then go."
She bowed lightly. "Excuse me, sir."
She followed Damian, walking side by side.
Kael watched them until they disappeared around the corner.
His hands slowly curled into fists.
He didn't like this feeling.
He didn't like it at all.
It kept happening.
Every time he tried to speak with her, Damian appeared — calm, polite, but always there. Always intercepting. Always taking her away.
Once could be coincidence.
Twice, maybe.
But five times?
Five times in three days?
That was deliberate.
By Friday, Kael's patience had been ground down to nothing.
He spotted her walking toward the parking lot after work, the sunset casting a warm glow around her. For a moment, his breath caught — she looked softer than she had in weeks.
"Amara," he called, quickening his pace.
She turned, surprised.
He swallowed. "I need to talk to you. Just for a moment."
Her expression shifted — uncertain, hesitant.
"I—"
"Amara!"
Kael's entire body stiffened.
Damian again.
He walked toward them, calm but purposeful. He opened the passenger door of his car.
"We're going to be late," he said to her.
Amara froze for a second. "I—Mr. Navarro just wanted—"
"It's fine," Kael cut in sharply. "Clearly, you're busy."
She looked down, guilt flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, sir."
Damian stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her arm. A simple touch — light, protective — but to Kael, it might as well have been a slap.
Something snapped inside him.
"Of course," he muttered, voice tight. "You'd rather flirt with him than fix your mistakes at work, right?"
Amara's eyes widened in shock. "Sir…?"
"You're getting too comfortable," he continued, his pride poisoning every word. "Don't think that just because Mr. Sinclair is interested in you, you can do whatever you want. You're still an employee in my company. Don't forget your place."
Her face fell.
Damian's expression darkened.
"Mr. Navarro," Damian said, voice low. "Stop."
Kael ignored him, still staring at her.
"Do you understand?"
Amara didn't answer.
She just stood there — hurt, quiet, trembling.
He realized too late what he'd done.
What he'd broken.
Then—
CRACK.
Pain exploded across his jaw.
The world tilted as he fell back, hitting the ground hard.
Damian stood over him, eyes blazing with a fury Kael had never seen.
"Stay away from her," Damian said, voice trembling with anger. "You don't deserve her."
He turned, took Amara's hand — gently — and led her away.
Amara looked back once.
Just once.
Her eyes held pain.
And finality.
Then she got into Damian's car and left.
Kael didn't get up.
He didn't even try.
The ache in his jaw was nothing compared to the hollow ache spreading in his chest.
He had lost her.
And he had done it himself.
If it had ended there — if the night had simply swallowed him — maybe he would have gone home.
But fate had one more cruel twist waiting.
"Kael!" Clariss's voice shrieked as she ran toward him. "Oh my god, what did he do? That barbarian! And that girl—"
"Don't," Kael muttered, voice low.
Clariss froze. "What?"
"I said don't." He stood slowly, eyes colder than she had ever seen. "Don't talk about her like that."
"B-But Kael—"
"I said enough."
He walked past her without another glance, leaving her speechless.
Eventually, he reached his car.
He sat in the driver's seat, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
For the first time, he didn't recognize the man looking back.
He didn't drive home.
He didn't know where he was going.
He just drove — aimless, empty, and guilty.
And beneath it all…
Regret whispered its first cold warning.