"The molecules under the microscope make more sense than the distance between us."
🖋️ Journal Entry — Unsent
To: Lucian (But you'll never read this)
Dated: April 6, 20XX
I saw your name today… not your name exactly.
Just two initials.
"L. Reed" stamped into the footer of a technical review I was referencing. It looked clinical. Official. Cold.
It couldn't be you.
But still…
It made my chest hurt in that old, stupid way.
You always signed my sketchbooks the same way—just "L." in your blocky handwriting. Said it was for security, so no one could steal my work.
I wonder if I'm stealing time now, Lucian. Or waiting for someone who vanished with it.
I hate that you're still the gravity my thoughts orbit around.
—Aria
She closed the journal slowly, eyes lingering on the frayed spine, then slid it beneath the drawer's false bottom — behind the stacks of gel sheets, forgotten lab manuals, and an old tin of rose-flavored mints.
---
ReGenesis Pharmaceuticals, Level 3 Molecular Wing – 9:22 AM
The tang of ethanol, metal, and burnt toast hit her the moment she stepped into the lab. Ezra's half-failed toaster experiment had once again claimed an innocent bagel.
"Morning, baby scientist," Ezra called, twirling a pipette like a drumstick.
"Morning, reckless appliance abuser," Aria shot back, tying her hair with a rubber band and sliding into her stool.
Yusuf peeked out from behind the PCR machine like a caffeinated meerkat.
"I have synthesized three things this morning," he said proudly. "Optimism, data, and guilt."
"Guilt?" Aria asked, pulling on gloves.
"For eating your last mochi. But also not sorry."
Meilin didn't look up from her microscope. "RX-317's molecular structure shifted again. The inhibitors are reacting to something they shouldn't be. We're missing a key interaction."
"So the new miracle compound's playing hard to get," Ezra muttered. "What else is new?"
Yusuf dropped into his chair beside her. "We might need to request clinical-grade access for a deeper read on the compound."
Meilin added, "That means bypassing the division leads… maybe going up to the Director."
Everyone fell silent.
The Director.
Only ever referred to in official briefings as L. Reed. Even Meilin had never seen his full name printed.
"Have any of you ever met him?" Aria asked quietly, trying to sound casual.
"Nope," Ezra said, flipping through a shared file on his tablet. "Rumor says he rarely visits lower floors. Kind of like a pharmaceutical cryptid."
"He exists," Yusuf confirmed. "I saw a photo once. Blurry. Like Bigfoot. But with a nicer tie."
Meilin's voice was sharper. "Don't joke. He signs off every major approval. If we want to keep working on RX-317, someone has to draft a formal escalation."
"I can do it," Aria offered before she could stop herself. "Just the memo. I'm good with words."
Ezra grinned. "We know. We've read your Post-it notes. They're practically haiku."
She rolled her eyes, hiding the flush in her cheeks. Then opened a blank request form on her terminal.
To: Office of the Executive Director — L. Reed
From: A. Ray, Virology Division
As she typed, a strange flutter pressed against her ribs.
L. Reed.
It couldn't be…
Could it?
She shook it off.
Too many coincidences made fairy tales. And this wasn't one.
---
Meanwhile, on the top floor, the man behind the name sat with a dossier in his hand — marked "RX-317 | Team: Yusuf Khoury, Meilin Shi, Ezra Smithson, Aria Ray."
His thumb paused on that last name.
And for a moment, the pen in his hand stilled.
But he didn't look beyond the surface yet.
Not today.