Serene arrived without announcement.
No car ahead of schedule. No message sent in advance. No pause at the gate that would suggest hesitation. She stepped inside the grounds as if time had folded neatly to make space for her — not arrogantly, not cautiously, but with the quiet certainty of someone who knew exactly where she stood.
Mia noticed her immediately.
Not because she was loud or demanding, but because she didn't look around the way visitors usually did. She didn't scan the space for reassurance or guidance. She didn't carry the unease of someone entering unfamiliar territory.
She simply walked in.
Mia straightened instinctively, a familiar sense of responsibility tightening in her chest.
"May I help you?" she asked.
Serene turned.
She was calm. Not smiling broadly, not guarded either — just present. Her eyes held a softness that didn't ask for permission, paired with a steadiness that suggested she rarely needed it.
"I need to see Theon," she said.
Mia's posture stiffened.
She had heard many people ask for meetings. None of them spoke his name that way — without title, without hesitation, without deference.
"I'm afraid you'll need an appointment," Mia replied carefully. "And authorization."
Serene tilted her head slightly, studying her with polite curiosity.
"Just tell him I'm here," she said. "Tell him it's Serene."
Mia hesitated.
There it was again — the name spoken as if it belonged where it landed.
"I can't take risks," Mia said. "If you don't have an appointment, I can't—"
Serene's lips curved faintly.
"Oh, dear," she said gently, interrupting without raising her voice. "I am a crazy ex."
Mia blinked.
Serene continued, tone casual, almost amused. "But don't worry. Just mention my name. If he says he doesn't want to meet me, I'll leave. No fuss. No argument."
The way she said it — without defensiveness, without anticipation — unsettled Mia more than insistence would have.
Mia hesitated, every instinct warning her against this.
"I really shouldn't—"
"I know," Serene said easily. "But you will."
It wasn't a command.
It was confidence.
Mia didn't like that she was right.
She nodded stiffly and turned away, pulse quickening as she walked toward the study. She rehearsed how she would phrase it — neutral, professional, detached.
She knocked.
"Come in."
Theon sat behind his desk, expression composed as ever. He looked up briefly, waiting.
"There's… someone here to see you," Mia said.
"Do they have an appointment?" he asked.
"No," she admitted. "She said to tell you her name."
He nodded slightly. "And?"
Mia swallowed. "She said it's Serene."
The change was immediate.
Not dramatic. Not explosive.
Just… undeniable.
Theon's hand stilled on the desk. His eyes lifted fully now, focus sharpening in a way Mia had never seen directed at anyone else.
For a fraction of a second — so brief Mia almost missed it — his carefully constructed composure fractured.
He stood.
Not deliberately. Not thoughtfully.
He stood as if something inside him had already moved and the rest of him had no choice but to follow.
Without another word, he walked past her.
Then he walked faster.
Down corridors Mia had seen him cross a hundred times with measured calm, he now moved with uncharacteristic urgency — as if delay itself were a risk.
As if Serene might disappear if he didn't reach her quickly enough.
Mia followed at a distance, heart pounding, confusion blooming into something sharper.
When they reached the entrance hall, Serene was still standing exactly where she had been — unhurried, hands loosely clasped, gaze calm.
She looked up when she sensed him.
Their eyes met.
Serene smiled.
Not widely. Not triumphantly.
Just softly — the kind of smile that didn't demand anything, because it already knew the answer.
Theon stopped.
For the first time since Mia had known him, he seemed… unprepared.
Words did not come.
He stood there, expression stripped of its practiced neutrality, all the layers she had learned to read falling away at once.
Mia watched from the side, something tightening painfully in her chest.
She had seen him calm under pressure.
She had seen him composed under accusation.
She had seen him silent under misunderstanding.
She had never seen him like this.
Serene didn't rush him. Didn't fill the silence. Didn't step closer.
She simply waited.
As if she understood that some moments needed space to exist before they could be touched.
Mia didn't need words anymore.
The way his shoulders eased, just slightly.
The way his gaze softened without effort.
The way his attention narrowed until nothing else in the room seemed to exist.
That expression alone told her the truth she had never seen before.
Serene was not important to him.
She was foundational.
Theon finally spoke — not with authority, not with control, but with something almost unsteady beneath the restraint.
"You're here," he said.
Serene's smile deepened, just a fraction.
"Yes," she replied.
That was all.
No explanations.
No accusations.
No history spoken aloud.
Yet the air between them felt dense with everything unsaid.
Mia stood frozen at the edge of the scene, understanding dawning too late to stop its weight from settling in her chest.
She had spent months interpreting his silences as indifference.
And here — in a single unguarded moment — she saw what silence looked like when it was filled with meaning.
The conversation had not yet begun.
But everything had already changed.