Chapter 50: What He's Not Ready to Find (1)
The dream faded like smoke through open fingers. El blinked. The garden was gone. Kaye was gone. The warm light, the swinging tree, the whispering fountain — all of it, gone.
He was standing in the hallway.
The office hallway. Beige walls. Fluorescent lights. The distant hum of keyboards and phones.
When did I get here?
How did I—
"El."
He turned.
Mira was standing a few feet away. Her blazer was charcoal gray. Her hair was pulled back in that perfect severe bun. A single strand had escaped again — resting against her cheek like she'd been in a hurry.
She was holding a coffee cup. Not a paper cup. The ceramic one. The one from her office.
"You left this yesterday," she said.
El stared at the cup. "I didn't—"
"You did." She walked toward him. Stopped closer than necessary. Her perfume — flowers that went to business meetings — wrapped around him.
"You left it on the break room table. I was going to throw it away, but..." She shrugged. "It seemed like a waste."
She held out the cup.
El took it. The ceramic was warm. Almost hot.
"Thank you."
Mira didn't leave. She stood there, arms crossed, watching him.
"You've been quiet this week," she said.
"I'm always quiet."
"No. You've been distant. There's a difference."
Yassy said the same thing.
Almost the same words.
Why does everyone keep saying that?
"I've had a lot on my mind."
Mira tilted her head. "Anything you want to talk about?"
El shook his head. "Not really."
She nodded. Didn't push. Didn't leave.
The hallway was empty. Most people were at their desks. The only sounds were the hum of the lights and the distant clatter of keyboards.
"You know," Mira said, "I used to think you didn't like coffee."
El blinked. "What?"
"The first time I brought you coffee, you barely touched it. I thought maybe you were a tea person. Or maybe you just didn't like the brand I brought."
"I was distracted."
"You're always distracted."
She almost smiled. Almost.
"I like coffee," El said. "Black. No sugar."
"I know." Mira's voice was softer now. "I figured it out eventually."
She figured it out.
She pays attention.
She's always paid attention.
"Why do you keep bringing me coffee?" El asked.
Mira held his gaze. "Why do you think?"
I don't know.
I never know.
She's my boss. She's not my boss. She's something else.
Something—
"Mira."
She didn't respond. Just looked at him.
The hallway was silent.
Then —
"I think you're worth the effort," she said.
The words hung in the air.
Worth the effort.
She said I'm worth the effort.
What does that mean?
Why—
From the corner, Demi was staring.
He was leaning against the wall near the water cooler. His eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open. He wasn't even pretending to work.
"El—"
"Yassy."
The voice came from behind them.
Yassy appeared at the end of the hallway. Her heels clicked against the tile. Her blazer was navy blue. Her hair was pulled back. Her eyes moved from Mira to El to the coffee cup in El's hand.
"Oh," Yassy said. "Am I interrupting?"
Mira's jaw tightened. Just slightly. Just enough.
"No," Mira said. "We were just... talking."
"About?"
"Coffee."
Yassy's eyebrows rose. "Coffee?"
"It's a very important topic," Mira said. Her voice was flat. Professional. But something underneath was sharp.
Yassy smiled. "I agree."
She walked toward them. Stopped on El's other side. Close. Closer than necessary.
"You know," Yassy said, looking at El, "I told you I'd take you to that place. The one with the real coffee."
"I remember."
"I'm free Saturday."
Mira's eyes flicked to Yassy. "Saturday?"
"I work on Saturdays," Yassy said. "I'm always free."
"You work too much."
"Someone has to."
The two women looked at each other. Neither blinked.
El stood between them. Coffee cup in hand. Heart pounding.
What's happening?
Why are they—
From the corner, Demi's mouth was still open.
"I should get back to work," El said.
"Of course," Yassy said. She touched his arm. Brief. Warm. "Don't forget about Saturday."
She walked away.
Mira watched her go.
"She's very... friendly," Mira said.
"She's my boss."
"She's something." Mira turned to look at him. "Be careful."
"Careful of what?"
"Of her."
She said that before.
About Yassy.
What does she know?
What does she think she knows?
"El."
He looked at her.
"The coffee," Mira said. "Drink it before it gets cold."
She walked away.
El stood in the hallway. Coffee cup in hand. Heart still pounding.
Demi walked toward him.
"What was THAT?" Demi whispered.
"What was what?"
"THAT. Mira. Yassy. You. Coffee. Saturday. The touching. The staring. The—" Demi waved his hands. "ALL OF IT."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're hopeless."
"I'm aware."
Demi grabbed his arm. "They're both into you, El. MIRA AND YASSY. They're FIGHTING over you."
"They're not fighting."
"They're not NOT fighting."
"You're impossible."
"I'm ACCURATE. There's a difference."
El walked toward his cubicle.
Demi followed.
"You know," Demi said, "most guys would be happy about this."
"I'm not most guys."
"I know. That's your whole brand."
---
The room was cold. Not temperature cold — something else. The kind of cold that settled in your bones and made you remember you were alive.
A large desk dominated the space. Polished dark wood. High-backed chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Nev stood near the window. His arms were crossed. His dark eyes were fixed on the skyline.
Hope stood beside him, clutching her tablet. Her travel mug was empty. Her optimistic stickers seemed out of place in this room.
The chair behind the desk was turned toward the window. All they could see was the back of it. A hand rested on the armrest. Pale. Still.
"Report," a voice said.
Female. Calm. Measured.
Nev spoke first. "Project Horizon is progressing. The subject is stable. The variables are in place."
"And the target?"
Nev paused. "El Ignacio is still... searching."
The chair didn't move.
"Searching for what?"
Nev's eyes flicked toward Hope. Then back to the chair.
"For something he's not ready to find."
The hand on the armrest tightened. Just slightly. Just enough.
"Anything else?"
Hope stepped forward. "The office dynamics are normal. Yassy returned yesterday. Mira Castillo is attentive. Demi De Cruz is... Demi."
"Demi," the voice repeated. Almost amused.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And how are they?"
Hope tilted her head. "Who?"
"El and Demi. How are they?"
Hope glanced at Nev. Nev didn't react.
"They're..." Hope searched for the right words. "They're the same. Demi is still loud. El is still quiet. They're still friends."
The chair was silent for a moment.
Then —
"I see."
The chair began to turn.
Slowly. Deliberately.
First the profile. Sharp cheekbone. Dark hair pulled back.
Then the face.
Syka.
Her eyes were sharp. Ancient. Knowing. She looked the same as she had in school — but different. Harder. More guarded.
Nev dipped his head. "Ma'am Syka."
Hope's eyes widened. She straightened. "Ma'am Syka."
Syka's eyes moved from Nev to Hope. Then to the window.
"You're dismissed."
Nev turned. Walked toward the door.
Hope hesitated. Looked at Syka. Then at Nev. Then back at Syka.
"Is that it?" Hope asked. "Don't you want to know more? About El? About Demi? About—"
"Hope." Nev's voice was quiet. Firm.
Hope closed her mouth.
Syka almost smiled. Almost.
"Go," Syka said.
Hope followed Nev to the door.
At the threshold, Syka spoke again.
"Nev."
He stopped. Didn't turn.
"Your observation. 'Something he's not ready to find.'"
Nev waited.
Syka leaned back in her chair. "You chose your words carefully."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Nev was silent for a moment. Then: "Because he's not ready."
Syka's eyes narrowed. "And you are?"
Nev didn't answer.
He walked out.
Hope followed.
The door closed.
Syka sat alone.
The city hummed outside her window. The lights flickered. The cold pressed in.
She picked up her phone. Stared at the screen.
Then she set it down.
"I see," she murmured. "You still haven't figured it out."
She sighed.
The office was silent.
---
El sat at his desk. The coffee cup was empty. The morning was gone.
Demi appeared at the cubicle wall. "So. Saturday."
"What about Saturday?"
"Are you going?"
"Going where?"
"With Yassy. Coffee. Real coffee. Remember?"
El stared at his computer screen.
Was he going?
He didn't know.
He never knew.
That was the problem.
"I don't know," he said.
Demi sighed. "You're hopeless."
"I'm aware."