When I got to her office, I paused at the door, taking in the scene. The late afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, painting golden lines across the space. Nita was still glued to her computer, her brows furrowed, a few loose strands of hair brushing her cheek. She was so focused she didn't even notice me enter.
"Hey," I said finally, easing into the chair opposite her.
"Hi," she murmured without looking up. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "Can I help you?"
The clipped tone hit harder than I expected. She used to say hi differently—softer, curious, a touch of warmth under her breath. Now it was just professional. Cold.
"I just want to talk," I said, leaning back, trying to sound casual.
"Go ahead."
I hesitated, watching her type for a few seconds.
"Do you still love him?"
Her fingers froze over the keyboard. Slowly, she turned to look at me. "Victor?" she asked.
I nodded, keeping my voice steady.
