By the time I left the office I was exhausted. My body felt heavy, the kind of tired that gets into your bones. My heels. My head ached from staring at the screen all day. Lucas had left earlier. His presence still felt like it was there. Working with him always felt like walking on a line. Being professional on the surface but with something charged underneath.
I did not want to go yet. Home meant silence, bills to pay and hospital calls I could not return because I had no answers. So I walked until my feet took me somewhere warm and quiet.
The café was dim. Almost empty. Soft music plays in the background, the kind that makes you slow down without you even realizing it. I ordered a coffee even though I did not really want one and chose a corner table. That was when I saw her.
She was sitting alone and her posture was careful. She looked elegant without even trying. Her hands were wrapped around a cup. She was not drinking from it. She looked distant like she was else entirely.
I do not know why I looked at her twice. Maybe it was the loneliness I saw in her eyes. Maybe it was the strange pull I felt like gravity had shifted a bit in my direction.
As I walked past her table she looked up. Our eyes met.
"Excuse me " she said softly. "Is anyone sitting there?" She gestured to the chair across from her.
I hesitated. I do not usually talk to strangers. Something in her voice felt safe.
"No " I said. "Go ahead."
She. I saw relief on her face and I sat down without fully understanding why.
"I'm Elena, " she said after a moment.
"I'm Mira."
The way she said my name made my chest feel tight.
We talked slowly at first about nothing that was important. We talked about the weather and how quiet the café was. How nights feel longer when you are tired.
"You look tired, " she said, looking at me gently.
"I am, " I said. "Work has been a lot."
She nodded like she understood more than I was saying. "Some jobs take more than they give back."
Her words stayed with me.
That night turned into another conversation and then another meeting. Sometimes we planned to meet. Sometimes it was by chance or at least that is what we told ourselves.
With Elena I felt lighter. She listened in a way that made me feel seen. She never. Demanded anything. She had her sadness but she did not let it spill everywhere. It made me want to be careful with her.
"I don't usually let people in " she told me one evening as we walked through the streets.
"Me neither " I. I meant it.
The closeness grew quietly in the way we looked at each other in the pauses when we did not say anything and in our hands touching by accident and staying there a bit longer than necessary.
One night outside my apartment she stopped walking.
"Mira " she said, her voice unsteady. "This feels dangerous."
I swallowed. "Then why are we still here?"
She did not answer. She just leaned in. Kissed me. It was not. It was not careless. It was slow and full of emotion like she had been holding something back for long. When we pulled apart her eyes were shiny.
"I don't know where this is going " she whispered.
"Neither do I " I said. ". I don't want it to stop."
After that there was no pretending. We did not define what we were. We did not name it. We just let it exist in the spaces between our lives.
Something always felt off. Sometimes Elena would go silent for days. Then came back like nothing had happened. Sometimes she would look at me like she was afraid of losing me. And afraid of wanting me much.
One afternoon, at work that strange feeling turned sharp. I was organizing files when I heard two voices down the hall.
"Is Mrs. Vale attending the gala?" one of them asked.
"Yes, " the other replied. "Elena Vale will be there."
My hands froze. Elena. My heart skipped a beat. Then laughed at itself. It was a name and I was being ridiculous. Still my chest felt tight.
That night she texted me.
Elena: Can I see you tonight? I feel like something is slipping away.
I stared at the message for a time before I replied.
Me: Yes. Come over.
When she arrived she looked different. Tense. Her eyes searched my face like she was trying to memorize it.
"Mira " she said quietly, "if our lives were different... Do you think things could be easier?"
I did not know what to say.
"I think," I answered carefully "that some things come into our lives whether they fit or not."
She nodded. Her expression darkened. Outside the city kept moving like nothing was wrong. Inside I felt it. A sense that I was standing on the edge of something I did not yet understand.. Whatever it was, it was already too late to step back.