The office floor was nearly empty when Ren noticed the light.
Jay's office.
Everyone else had left hours ago. Assistants. Executives. Even security had switched to night rotation. Yet her lights were still on, cutting through the dim corridor like a silent signal.
Ren checked his watch.
Too late.
He paused outside her door—not close enough to intrude, not far enough to ignore it.
Through the glass, he saw her.
Seated at her desk, blazer draped over the chair, sleeves rolled up. Papers spread neatly in front of her. Phone resting face down near her hand.
She wasn't working.
She was staring.
Ren knocked once.
Jay looked up, startled for a fraction of a second before her expression smoothed back into control.
"Ren," she said. "You're still here?"
"You are," he replied calmly.
She glanced at the clock. "I lost track of time."
He nodded, accepting the answer without questioning it. He stepped inside but stayed near the door, giving her space like he always did.
"The building's almost empty," he said. "Your driver is waiting."
"I'll be down soon."
Silence settled between them—not uncomfortable, just heavy.
Ren's gaze flicked briefly to the phone on her desk. Face down. Untouched.
He didn't ask.
Instead, he said, "You don't have to carry everything alone just because you can."
Jay's fingers tightened slightly around her pen.
"I know."
Another pause.
"Tomorrow will be worse," Ren continued. "More meetings. More eyes on you." He looked at her then, steady and quiet. "Rest tonight. Even if it's only a little."
She met his gaze.
For a moment, something cracked beneath her composure. Not enough to break. Just enough to show she was human.
"I will," she said softly.
Ren nodded. Satisfied—not because he believed her completely, but because pushing would only make her retreat.
He turned to leave, then stopped.
"Jay."
She looked up.
"Whatever is weighing on you," he said, voice even, sincere, "you don't owe me an explanation."
Her breath hitched—just slightly.
"Thank you," she replied.
Ren left the office without another word.
Jay remained seated long after the door closed.
Slowly, she reached for her phone.
Didn't turn it over.
Didn't unlock it.
She just held it there, resting against her palm, as if feeling its weight might prepare her for what it contained.
Outside, the hallway lights dimmed further.
And somewhere between concern and distance, Ren Aira understood one thing clearly—
Jay Mariano was standing on the edge of something she hadn't decided to face yet.
The city looked different at night.
Quieter. Slower. Less demanding.
Jay stood by the window of her apartment, lights off, the skyline glowing softly beyond the glass. Her heels lay discarded near the door, blazer folded neatly on the chair. Everything was in order.
Everything except her thoughts.
She glanced at the clock.
11:42 p.m.
Too late to be this awake.
She walked to the couch and sat down, phone resting in her palm like it had weight. She hadn't checked it since leaving the office. Hadn't dared to.
The screen lit up.
1 voicemail.
Still there.
Her thumb hovered, then pulled back.
She locked the phone.
Exhaled.
Picked it up again.
Unlocked it.
The notification replayed silently, as if reminding her it hadn't gone anywhere. That it would wait as long as it needed to.
Jay leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Nine years.
She had rebuilt her life in careful layers—education, work, distance, control. She had trained herself not to look back, not to wonder, not to ask questions that never had answers.
And yet here she was.
Afraid of a voice.
She pressed the phone to her ear.
Then lowered it again.
Not yet.
She opened her messages instead. Scrolled aimlessly. Closed them. Opened her calendar. Tomorrow was full. Too full. Meetings, calls, appearances.
Safe things.
Her phone vibrated softly—not a call. Just the echo of her own movement.
She sat up straighter.
"What are you so scared of?" she whispered.
The answer came uninvited.
That it will still matter.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the voicemail screen again. The play button glowed patiently.
She didn't press it.
Instead, she turned the phone face down and hugged a cushion to her chest, resting her forehead against it. Her breathing slowed. The city lights blurred.
Outside, somewhere far away, a plane cut through the night sky.
Inside, Jay Mariano stayed perfectly still—caught between who she was now and a past that refused to stay silent.
The voicemail remained unheard.
But it was no longer ignored.
An
Guys im so sorry for posting late i might not upload wvery week bcs im a board student and i can't do all this but i will try my best and another reason was i don't know if you like it or not and i don't see any response so thats the another reason 💗