HOLDING BACK

The afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the office floor as I closed my laptop, exhaling softly. The workday was over, and yet, I felt like I had been holding my breath since the moment we sat down this morning.

I had expected the forced professionalism. It made sense—after last night, after crossing every possible line, there had to be some attempt at control. But Mark had taken it to an extreme.

Too polite. Too distant.

At first, I had been on the same page. Work was work, and the last thing I wanted was for things to feel messy between us. But as the hours passed, the controlled distance started to feel unnatural—as if we weren't just keeping things professional, but deliberately pretending nothing had happened at all.

It was too much. 

And that? That didn't sit right with me.