Sixty hearts blue 7

Lisa hesitated at the building's entrance, her fingers hovering over the door handle. Her stomach twisted. This job—handed to her through her father's connections—should have filled her with pride. Instead, all she could think about was Stephen. He didn't know she was here. How would he react?

Inside, the elevator doors slid shut, sealing her fate. She inhaled sharply. The advertising department wasn't where she'd wanted to be—she'd aimed higher, but her lack of qualifications had shut that door. Even her father's influence couldn't push her past her limits. The desk they assigned her was modest, unfamiliar, nothing like the luxury of her father's company. She dropped her bag onto it with a quiet thud, her nerves raw.

Since Roselle left, she and Stephen barely saw each other. Work consumed him, stole his weekends, left her stranded in his absence. That distance had driven her here. Her father hadn't understood why she wanted to leave his company, but he hadn't argued.

Lisa scanned the room—colleagues chatting, staplers clicking, keyboards clacking. Everyone seemed at ease, settled into the rhythm of corporate life. Her fingers tapped anxiously against the pen in her hand. She hadn't eaten. Couldn't. The thought of food had made her nauseous this morning.

Where is Stephen? Her gaze darted across the office, searching. She needed to see him, to hear his voice.

"New here?"

A voice snapped her out of her daze. Lisa turned to find a woman in a crimson suit, dark curls pulled into a ponytail.

"Yes." Lisa straightened. "Lisa Springsteen."

"Bianca Lawson." The woman's handshake was confident. She placed a neatly printed paper on Lisa's desk. "Mr. Rogers wants our thoughts on this before the meeting."

Bianca started to walk away, but Lisa couldn't hold back. "Do you know Stephen?"

Bianca paused, brows lifting slightly. "Stephen? He's the chief accountant."

Lisa already knew—Michael had told her about his promotion—but she needed more. "Where's his office?"

Bianca studied her, as if weighing whether to answer. "Opposite the Manager's office. But unless it's work-related, don't disturb him. He doesn't like interruptions." There was a warning in her tone, but Lisa barely heard it.

"Thanks."

Bianca walked off, but Lisa was already planning her next move. The meeting was in a few minutes. She should focus, but the paper in front of her was meaningless.

•

Stephen ended the call, but Roselle's voice still lingered, wrapping around his thoughts like a chain he couldn't break. She told him everything—what she ate, the books she was reading, the friends she was making. Every call was a lifeline, tethering him to the past, yet never enough to fill the void she had left behind. He missed her. Missed her so much it felt like a dull, constant ache in his chest. Hearing her helped. Seeing her again? That was what he really wanted.

His phone buzzed again. Michael's name flashed across the screen.

"What's up?" Stephen answered.

Michael's voice was easygoing, gum popping between his words. "Lunch later?"

"I'm working." His tone was flat. The company closed at four, but lately, he stayed long after, drowning himself in spreadsheets and meetings. Anything to keep the emptiness at bay.

"Come on, man, you gotta eat. My treat."

Stephen exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Tomorrow, maybe. I'm not in the mood today."

Michael hesitated. "You're still stuck on her, huh?" His voice softened. "Alright. Tomorrow, then. I'm holding you to it." The call ended before Stephen could respond.

He checked his watch. The meeting was about to start. Straightening his tie, he gathered his notes, forcing his mind to shift to the investment plan. His role in approving the funds made his opinion crucial. Everyone would be listening.

And yet, as he stepped into the conference room, the heaviness in his chest didn't lift.

•

Lisa spotted him the moment he walked in, and a jolt of excitement shot through her. Her breath hitched. Not yet. She dipped her head, her pulse racing. She wanted to approach him on her own terms—not like this, unprepared, vulnerable. But now, he was just feet away, completely unaware of her presence. Her stomach twisted between anticipation and dread.

Stephen spoke with quiet authority, his words measured, his voice steady. Lisa barely registered what he was saying. She was too caught up in watching him—the sharp angles of his face, the piercing blue eyes, the effortless confidence. He was still the same Stephen she had admired in high school, the boy who excelled at everything. The pull she'd felt back then? It was even stronger now.

"It's your turn."

The whisper snapped her out of her trance. Lisa stiffened. My turn? Heads turned toward her. Including his.

Stephen's gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. But in his eyes, she saw it—that flicker of surprise, a silent question: What are you doing here?

Her throat went dry as she stood, legs unsteady. Say something. Anything.

"I… I wasn't informed," she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

A sharp sigh came from Mr. Rogers at the head of the table. "This won't be tolerated again." His disapproving stare burned through her before he dismissed the room with a wave.

Lisa sank back into her chair, face hot with humiliation. She hadn't said a single word of value. And now, she felt small. Like she didn't belong.

Bianca brushed past her, whispering, "What were you thinking?" The words stung deeper than they should have.

Lisa barely had time to process it before Stephen was suddenly in front of her. Close. Too close.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was low, firm—not warm, not welcoming. Guarded. Cold.

Lisa straightened, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "I came to work."

He studied her for a beat, then frowned. "I thought you were at your father's company."

"I wanted to expand my experience." She shrugged, hoping he'd be impressed.

Instead, his next words cut through her like ice.

"You make me uncomfortable."

Flat. Final. No hesitation.

Lisa barely registered the moment he turned and walked away. She just stood there, her chest caving in, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

Her vision blurred. She stumbled toward her desk, fighting the burn behind her eyes. Not here. Don't cry here. But the tears came anyway, hot and unstoppable.

Bianca appeared at her side, concern flickering in her expression. "Lisa? Did he say something bad to you?"

Lisa's voice broke. "Where's the restroom?"

Bianca gestured toward the stairs, but Lisa was already moving, barely hearing her. She rushed away, her own thoughts screaming louder than anything else.

How could he?