The right kind of wrong
1129 Words
Avoid him.
That was the plan.
Simple.
Clear.
Necessary.
And completely impossible.
---
I lasted exactly three hours.
Three hours of keeping my head down, focusing on work, avoiding eye contact, pretending like nothing had shifted between us.
Three hours of control.
And then—
“Lara, conference room. Now.”
His voice.
Calm.
Direct.
Impossible to ignore.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Of course.
Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
---
When I walked into the conference room, he was already there.
Alone.
The door clicked shut behind me.
And just like that—
The air changed.
“Is this about work?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
“It can be,” he replied.
I exhaled softly. “Then let’s keep it that way.”
His gaze didn’t move.
Didn’t soften.
“If you wanted distance, you shouldn’t have come.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
“Not when you’re my superior.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Because that word—
That reminder—
It mattered.
More than anything else.
---
“You’re pulling away,” he said.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I don’t see the point in pretending.”
“And the reason?”
I hesitated.
Just for a second.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
“Because this is getting out of control.”
“And you don’t like that.”
“No,” I said quietly. “I don’t.”
He stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
And my body reacted before my mind could catch up.
Tension.
Awareness.
Something deeper.
“You didn’t look like you didn’t like it last night,” he said.
My breath caught.
“This isn’t about last night.”
“It is.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “This is about everything after it.”
“Victoria.”
The name landed between us.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“You’re letting her affect you.”
“I’m letting reality affect me,” I corrected. “She’s part of your world. Not mine.”
“And you think that decides anything?”
“It should.”
Silence again.
But this time—
It wasn’t calm.
It was building.
---
“She expects something from you,” I continued.
“That’s her decision.”
“And yours?”
His gaze locked onto mine.
Unmoving.
Unwavering.
“You already know.”
My heart skipped.
Because I did.
And that was the problem.
---
“You should go to that dinner,” I said.
The words tasted wrong the moment I said them.
But I didn’t take them back.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
I looked away briefly.
Because he was right.
Again.
“I’m trying to make this easier,” I said.
“For who?”
“For both of us.”
His expression shifted slightly.
Not softer.
Not harder.
Just—
Different.
“I’m not interested in easy.”
“Then you should be.”
“I’m not.”
And there it was.
That stubborn certainty.
That refusal to bend.
To step back.
To let this go.
---
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” I whispered.
“And you’re pretending it’s something it’s not.”
“It is something it’s not supposed to be,” I snapped quietly.
The words hung between us.
Raw.
Unfiltered.
True.
---
For a moment—
Neither of us moved.
Because now—
There was nothing left to hide behind.
No excuses.
No distractions.
Just the truth.
And the tension that came with it.
---
“You’re scared,” he said.
“I’m careful.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It is when you have something to lose.”
“And what do you think I have?”
I frowned slightly.
“You don’t risk things the way I do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then tell me,” I challenged.
Silence.
And for the first time—
He didn’t answer immediately.
---
That hesitation—
It mattered.
More than anything he could have said.
Because it meant there was something.
Something he wasn’t showing.
Something he wasn’t saying.
---
But before I could push further—
The door opened.
And just like that—
Everything snapped back into place.
---
“Am I interrupting?”
Victoria.
Of course.
Of course it was her.
She stood at the door, perfectly composed, perfectly calm… but her eyes—
They moved between us.
Taking in everything.
The distance.
The tension.
The silence.
She stepped inside without waiting for an answer.
“I was looking for you,” she said to Ethan.
Her tone was smooth.
But there was something under it.
Something sharper.
“I’m busy.”
“Clearly.”
Her gaze flicked to me again.
Brief.
Assessing.
Unimpressed.
And yet—
There was something else there now.
Something new.
Awareness.
---
“We have things to finalize for the weekend,” she continued.
“That can wait.”
“I’d prefer if it didn’t.”
The tension shifted.
Not just between me and Ethan anymore—
But between them.
And I saw it.
The difference.
The way she expected.
The way he resisted.
---
“I’ll leave,” I said quietly.
Because suddenly—
I didn’t belong in that room.
Not in that moment.
Not between whatever this was.
“Stay,” Ethan said immediately.
I froze.
Victoria didn’t.
But I saw it.
That flicker.
That reaction she tried to hide.
---
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said.
“It is.”
His tone didn’t rise.
Didn’t change.
But it wasn’t a suggestion.
---
Victoria’s smile returned.
Soft.
Controlled.
But colder now.
“Of course,” she said lightly. “If she’s needed.”
Needed.
The word wasn’t casual.
And we all knew it.
---
“I’ll be quick,” Ethan said.
Then his attention shifted back to her.
Professional.
Distant.
Nothing like the tension that had filled the room seconds ago.
---
And just like that—
I saw it clearly.
The two worlds.
Side by side.
Hers—
Perfect.
Powerful.
Expected.
Mine—
Complicated.
Uncertain.
Wrong.
---
I stepped back.
Once.
Then again.
“I actually have work to finish,” I said.
This time—
I didn’t wait for a response.
I walked out.
---
But even as I did—
I felt it.
That pull.
That tension.
That connection that refused to break.
---
Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself…
This wasn’t something I could just walk away from.
And maybe—
That was the biggest mistake of all.
- Writer
