You Look Like You Wrestled the Bridge”
The sun was already dipping low when Mira finally set her pencil down. The makeshift worktable at the edge of the bridge site was littered with crumpled sketches, a half-empty coffee thermos, and three different rulers.
Her back ached. Her wrist throbbed. And somewhere under the sound of rushing water, she could still hear Darian's maddeningly calm voice from earlier:
"That design would hold… if you want it to last a week."
She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly through her nose. The man had the patience of a stone statue and the charm of one, too. Somehow, he managed to make every word sound like both advice and an insult.
"Are you done plotting his downfall, or should I give you another minute?"
Mira cracked one eye open. Zuri stood over her, sunglasses perched on her head despite the fading light, holding out a cold bottle of water.
Mira took it wordlessly, twisting the cap. "I wasn't plotting. Just… decompressing."
Zuri grinned, lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the grass. "You look like you wrestled the bridge and lost."
"I didn't lose," Mira muttered. "I just… didn't win."
Zuri smirked knowingly but didn't press. "Elijah said you and Darian didn't stop bickering the whole day."
"'Bickering' implies he actually talks. He mostly just… stares, makes a one-liner, and walks off like he's the final judge of the universe." Mira tilted her head back to stare at the sky. "How does anyone work with him?"
Zuri shrugged. "He builds things. People like things that don't fall apart. They put up with the attitude."
A shadow fell over them before Mira could reply.
"Meeting at eight tomorrow," Darian's voice cut in, low and even. "We'll need your preliminary sketch by then so the measurements can be lined up. If you're done… decompressing."
Mira sat up straighter, her spine stiffening. "I'll have it ready."
"Good." His slate-grey gaze flicked once over the scattered papers. No other comment. He turned, boots crunching against the gravel, and strode back toward the workshop without looking back.
Zuri let out a low whistle once he was gone. "He's… intense."
Mira snorted. "Intense is your polite word for insufferable."
Zuri leaned back on her hands, grinning. "At least Elijah's fun. We ended up arguing about which bakery in town makes the best pie for thirty minutes while you two tried to out-glare each other."
Mira arched a brow. "Sounds wildly productive."
"Hey, someone's gotta keep morale up while you and Mr. Stone Face duel it out."
Despite herself, Mira chuckled, shaking her head.
---
Across the lot, Darian stood by the open workshop door, arms folded as he watched Elijah packing up tools. The fading sun caught in his slate-grey eyes, but his face gave nothing away.
"Ready to lock up?" Elijah asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Darian gave a short nod and moved to hoist a length of timber onto the rack. No words wasted.
He didn't glance back toward the grassy patch where Mira and Zuri sat talking. He didn't need to. The entire day had already told him what he needed to know:
She wasn't going to back down.
And neither was he.
---
Later that night, Mira sat at the kitchen table with her mom, a cup of tea cradled between her palms. Her shoulders sagged as the quiet of the house wrapped around her like a blanket.
Her mom glanced up from folding a dishtowel. "Long day?"
Mira let out a humorless laugh. "Let's just say… small towns have their own version of corporate headaches."
"With less glass walls and more sawdust?" her mom teased.
"Exactly." Mira took a sip of tea. "But… I think I needed this. Even the headaches. At least it feels real."
Her mom reached over, giving her hand a small squeeze. "Then keep at it. Just don't let the headaches swallow the reasons you're here."
Mira nodded faintly.
Upstairs, when she finally lay in bed, Mira's sketchbook was on the nightstand, open to a rough outline of the bridge design.
She stared at it for a long moment before switching off the light.
Tomorrow would be another long day.
And she wasn't planning on backing down.