The Green Light

The warmth of Blake's hand lingered long after I pulled mine away. I'd pretended to yawn as an excuse to get up from the table, muttering something about needing to reply to emails. But the truth was, I needed to breathe.

Not escape. Just breathe.

I stood in front of my vanity, brushing out my hair, trying to calm the thoughts running a marathon through my mind. That dinner had felt—

No, it hadn't just felt. It had meant something.

The way he listened to me ramble about childhood books. The quiet attention he gave to every word, like I was saying something worth remembering. And then... that moment.

When I told him I'd never kissed anyone until him, I hadn't meant to confess it like a vulnerability. But it was. It was a piece of myself I hadn't even shared with my closest friends. I thought it might scare him off. Instead, Blake had looked stunned—not with pity, but with respect.

And care.

Real care.

My chest tightened as I set down the brush. In the beginning, I thought this marriage would always feel like walking through glass—deliberate, cautious, cold. But lately, it felt more like walking across new grass. Soft. Uncertain. Full of possibility.

I stepped onto the balcony, the cool night brushing my skin. The city of Velmora shimmered below, but my thoughts were a thousand miles away.

When did I start wanting this to work?

Maybe it was the flowers. Or the restraint. Or the patience. Or maybe it was how he stopped looking at me like a duty and started looking at me like a partner.

I still didn't know if I loved him. But the thought of falling in love didn't scare me as much as it used to.

What scared me was the idea of losing this new rhythm between us.

My phone buzzed on the side table. A message from Sarah:

[Sarah]: All set for the board follow-up tomorrow. Oliver confirmed Blake's attendance too. Should I prep joint notes?

[Me]: Yes. Joint notes. And confirm lunch for after. Just the two of us.

I hesitated before adding:

[Me]: And send Evelyn flowers. She's been wonderful.

Sarah sent a thumbs-up emoji, and I smiled. Slowly, carefully, I was letting people in.

Even Blake.

When I returned to the shared living space, he was no longer in the kitchen. The light in the hallway to his room was on, door half-closed. But I didn't knock. We weren't there yet.

Still, I stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary, before retreating to my room.

The next morning, I woke up to a small white box on my desk. Inside: a tiny origami crane made from emerald green paper, perched on a note that read:

"Green suits you. But you suit strength better."

No name. No signature. But I knew who it was from.

And damn him—he was winning me over with paper birds now.

I kept the crane beside my monitor, tucked safely into the corner like a reminder of softness in a world that demanded steel.

That morning, I found myself humming in the shower.

By the time I stepped out, Sarah was already in the kitchen, scrolling through the schedule. She gave me a curious glance.

"You're in a good mood."

"Don't read too much into it," I said.

"Sure. I'll just say the coffee tastes sweeter today," she teased.

We drove to the Carter Tower in easy silence, Velmora gliding past us like a city on the edge of transformation—and maybe I was transforming with it.

I stepped into the boardroom fifteen minutes early. It was already being prepared for the joint session. Fresh notepads, carafes of water, the projector humming softly.

Blake arrived not long after, dressed in a navy suit, hair slightly tousled like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times. He looked polished and calm.

But when our eyes met, a quiet heat sparked between us.

He took the seat beside me without a word. I passed him a copy of the agenda. Our hands brushed.

We were professionals. But the charged air said otherwise.

Throughout the meeting, we moved in sync. It was the first time we presented updates together—not as rivals, not as forced partners, but as a unit. When I made a point, he built on it. When he offered a strategy, I expanded it. There was an ease that hadn't existed before.

And I could feel the board noticing.

Afterward, as we walked out, he leaned in slightly. "Lunch?"

"My calendar says yes."

He smiled. A real one. The kind that lit his eyes.

We ended up at a tucked-away rooftop restaurant I loved. He let me pick the spot.

As we sat down, he lifted his water glass. "To evolving dynamics."

I raised mine. "To origami cranes and green blouses."

He laughed.

The rest of lunch passed in conversation that felt like... us. No cameras. No contracts. Just two people figuring out what it meant to share space and time.

Afterward, as we stood near the elevator, I turned to him.

"That kiss," I said.

He stilled.

I continued, voice low, eyes steady, "It wasn't a mistake."

Blake took a slow breath. "I know."

And for a beat, we didn't speak. The elevator dinged, doors sliding open. We stepped in together.

As it descended, he reached for my hand.

This time, I held on.