I’m not even sure why I went downstairs.
Maybe I needed fresh air. Maybe I needed space from the scent of Courtney’s perfume still lingering in the hallway, clinging to the air like a secret I wasn’t supposed to hear. Maybe I just needed a moment where my chest didn’t feel tight with questions that have no safe answers.
But the universe has a cruel sense of timing.
Because the second I step into the lobby, the elevator dings.
And they walk out.
Julian first—tall, composed, wearing that version of his expression that looks like confidence but feels like distance. His tie is loose. His hair is slightly mussed. He looks… comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Courtney is right beside him, laughing at something he must have just said. Her hand lightly touches his arm as she steps out of the elevator, the kind of touch that’s casual on the surface but absolutely intentional underneath.
Julian doesn’t pull away.
If anything, he leans slightly toward her, like he’s used to sharing space with her. Like this isn’t the first time.
My stomach drops so fast I actually stop walking.
It’s not dramatic—not some gasping moment where everything freezes—but it feels like the ground shifts an inch sideways, like the floor and my heart aren’t aligned anymore.
Courtney sees me first.
Her smile flickers. Not disappears—flickers. There’s a gleam in her eyes, something sharp, something that feels like a dare. She doesn’t let go of Julian’s arm.
Julian follows her gaze, and when he sees me, his expression does something I can’t name. For a split second he looks caught—like he wasn’t supposed to be seen with her like this.
Then it’s gone, replaced by a smooth, unreadable calm.
“Sloan,” he says, like he’s greeting a coworker he didn’t expect to run into, not the person he lives with. His voice is steady, but there’s a hesitation under it, a quiet static buzzing between syllables.
I can’t look away from their proximity.
They’re standing close. Too close.
Close in a way you don’t accidentally end up with someone who’s “just a friend.”
Courtney tilts her head, smile returning—sweet on the surface, sharp at the edges.
“Hey, Sloan. We just ran into each other in the garage.”
Her tone is breezy, innocent, but her hand is still on Julian’s arm.
And he’s still not moving away.
I manage to swallow. “Right.”
It’s the only word I can get out. My voice sounds thin, like it’s been wrung out.
Julian finally steps back half an inch—not enough, not really, but enough to pretend he noticed.
“We were just talking about the upcoming board event,” he says, eyes on me but walls firmly up. “Nothing major.”
I nod, but the hallway feels tilted again.
Nothing major.
Of course it’s nothing. Of course I’m imagining things. Of course Courtney just happens to laugh like she owns the air around her, and Julian just happens to look like he doesn’t mind.
My pulse is too loud in my ears.
The silence stretches—not long, but painfully long.
Courtney is the one who ends it. “I should go. Busy night,” she says, flashing Julian a knowing little smile before brushing past me, her shoulder grazing mine.
It feels intentional.
When she’s gone, the air between Julian and me becomes unbearably tight. He opens his mouth like he wants to explain—but then closes it, jaw tightening instead.
And in that moment, I realize something awful:
he’s not going to deny it.
Not fully.
Not in any way that would calm the storm building inside me.
I take a tiny step backward, not trusting my voice.
Julian watches me with an expression I can’t read, something like regret tangled with something like frustration.
“Sloan…” he starts.
But whatever he was going to say comes too late.
Because the image is already burned into me—
Julian and Courtney stepping out of the elevator, her laugh in the air, their bodies too close, his comfort too real.
A picture I never meant to see.
A picture I can’t unsee.
And worse—
a picture that feels like it was never meant for me at all.