The office was unusually quiet after hours, the glow from the glass-paneled city bleeding into the high-rise conference room. Nilla and James were the only two left, laptops open, the scent of late-night takeout wafting between them.
Nilla leaned back in her chair with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Okay, I love a good security puzzle, but this encryption design is actively mocking me."
James slid over a fresh cup of tea. "Green jasmine. From the café you used to drag me to every Wednesday."
She raised a brow. "You remember that?"
He gave a small, nostalgic smile. "I remember a lot of things."
The air shifted—subtle but undeniable.
"I used to think remembering everything was a strength," he continued. "Turns out, sometimes it's just a longer list of things to regret."
Nilla took the cup, warming her hands around it. "Funny… I used to think forgetting was how I'd move on."
They both went quiet for a moment, the hum of the city around them a gentle backdrop.
James glanced at her. "Can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"Do you think we ever really had a chance back then? Or were we just… too young and too full of our own ambition to see each other clearly?"
Nilla let out a soft, dry laugh. "Honestly? I think we were two people trying to win at life… and accidentally competing with each other instead of building something together."
James nodded slowly. "I didn't know how to be your partner without feeling like I had to prove I was better. And that's on me."
"It's on both of us," Nilla admitted. "I thought being right all the time meant I was strong. I didn't know how to let someone in and not see it as a weakness."
They exchanged a look—old pain, new perspective. It wasn't heavy. It was human.
Then the sound of raised voices echoed from the hallway.
James stood immediately. "Stay here."
"What? Why?"
But he was already moving, stepping into the corridor where two unfamiliar men were arguing near the server room door. One of them had his hand dangerously close to the server controls.
"Hey!" James barked, his voice sharp. "That area's restricted. What do you think you're doing?"
Nilla joined him quickly, eyes narrowing. The men looked up, surprised—but it was James who stepped protectively in front of Nilla, his stance controlled but firm. Security arrived moments later, escorting the pair out with murmured apologies. Apparently, they were third-party contractors from another office who'd gotten "lost." James didn't buy it. Neither did Nilla.
"Thanks," she said once it was over, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "That could've gone sideways fast."
James looked at her then—really looked.
"You always handled crises with a calm face," he said. "Even when your hands were shaking."
Nilla swallowed. "I'm not shaking now."
He stepped a little closer, voice low. "Neither am I."
There it was—just a flicker. The spark. Not a wildfire, not a flashback. But something new, something that buzzed quietly in the air between them.
Nilla cleared her throat and stepped back. "We should get that security breach logged."
James nodded, his gaze still lingering. "Yeah. Good idea."
But neither of them quite turned away for a long moment.
The shared project between Nilla and James's companies had become a daily presence in their lives—late meetings, impromptu strategy sessions, and more coffee runs than either cared to admit. It was easy to fall into the rhythm again. Familiar. But not quite the same. They were different now.
"You know," James said as they sat across from each other in a quiet downtown café one rainy Tuesday, "I think this is the longest we've gone without fighting while working together."
Nilla smirked over her tea. "Don't jinx it. The network testing phase is next week."
"Fair point," he chuckled, then leaned back in his chair. "Still. It's… nice. I mean, you're nice. Nicer."
Her eyes narrowed playfully. "Excuse me?"
"I mean—less prone to turning my poorly thought-out suggestions into digital roadkill."
She laughed, a warm, genuine sound. "Okay, I'll admit I've mellowed a bit."
He looked down at his drink for a beat before saying, "You've grown. A lot. It's impressive."
That caught her off guard.
"Thanks," she said, a bit quieter. "So have you. You're calmer. Less… James-y."
He raised a brow. "I'll pretend that's a compliment."
She smiled into her cup. "It was. Mostly."
Their teasing softened into a thoughtful silence. The kind of stillness that didn't need to be filled with noise.
Then James cleared his throat. "Can I ask something personal?"
"Sure."
"When you were with Theo…" He hesitated. "Were you happy?"
Nilla looked at him carefully. "Yes. I was. He was kind and thoughtful and gave me space to heal, but also challenged me to be more."
James nodded slowly. "He sounds like a good guy."
"He is," she said. "It just… wasn't our forever. We had different paths we had to follow."
He nodded again, this time more like he understood—because he did.
"I've been thinking about the past a lot lately," James said. "Not because I want to go back. But because I want to know what not to repeat. I think the worst part about our breakup wasn't that it happened—it's that we never tried to understand why we broke."
Nilla blinked, surprised by the depth of his honesty.
She took a breath. "We didn't know how to make room for each other. We were so focused on building empires, we didn't leave space for us. Now… I think I know how to do that. For someone. Maybe not perfectly. But better."
James gave a small smile, a quiet kind. "Same here."
Just then, Nilla's phone buzzed. She glanced at it and laughed softly.
Sarah: *"He's not trying to steal your heart again, right? I swear to God if I have to interrogate him over mimosas—"*
Nilla smirked and held the screen up for James to see.
He read it and winced. "Should I be worried?"
"She's protective. It's in her contract as Best Friend #1."
"I respect that," James said, grinning. "But maybe you could let her know I've evolved. Slightly."
"I'll think about it," Nilla teased, tucking her phone away.
Outside, the rain had lightened to a drizzle, the city lights glinting off wet pavement. They walked out together, side by side, not quite touching but somehow close enough.
James opened the umbrella and held it over both of them. "Care to walk?"
Nilla glanced up at him, then nodded. "Sure. But if you say something arrogant, I'm shoving you into a puddle."
James grinned. "Deal."
As they walked down the quiet sidewalk, she caught herself smiling—for no reason at all.
Just… content.