Chapter 6: The Freeze
1030 Words
Monday came and went without coffee.
No sarcastic notes.
No ghost of a smile through the doorway.
Just silence.
Thomas stayed behind his glass wall, issuing instructions through short emails and clipped Post-its. No meetings. No eye contact. No small talk.
By Wednesday, the office felt like it had dropped ten degrees in temperature.
Vanessa told herself she was fine.
He was her boss. This was her job. Not some high-stakes emotional minefield.
She typed faster. Stayed later. Focused harder.
And still caught herself glancing at his door every hour.
Nothing.
— You two fighting? — Sharon asked over lunch, stabbing her salad like it owed her money.
— We’re not “two.” He’s the CEO. I’m the secretary. We don’t fight.
— Right. And I’m not stalking my ex on LinkedIn every night.
Vanessa sighed.
— He’s just… distant. More than usual.
Sharon raised a brow.
— And that bothers you.
She didn’t answer.
Didn’t have to.
That evening, she printed a report, walked it to his desk, and set it down.
He didn’t look up.
— Thanks.
She stood there.
Waiting.
He signed the bottom of the last page, then finally met her gaze.
His eyes were tired. Cold. Controlled.
Like nothing had happened.
Like she hadn’t happened.
— Anything else? — he asked.
Vanessa bit the inside of her cheek.
Hard.
— No, Mr. Brown. That’s all.
She left without another word.
But the echo of hers — Mr. Brown — lingered longer than she expected.
Next morning, she came in early. Again.
Iced coffee. Extra vanilla. Set it on his desk.
No note. No sarcasm.
Just a quiet, deliberate reversal.
And then went to hers.
No expectations.
Just waiting.
Vanessa wasn’t trying to flirt.
Really.
She was just being polite to the new guy from the analytics department — Mike. Tall, easy-going, kind of dorky-cute with floppy hair and a smile that didn’t come with fine print.
He had stopped by her desk to ask about a scheduling glitch.
Ten minutes later, they were laughing.
Fifteen minutes later, they were exchanging sarcasm like old friends.
Twenty minutes later—
She felt it.
A shift in the air.
She glanced up.
Thomas was standing by his office door. Silent. Watching.
His jaw was tight. Shoulders stiff. Expression unreadable.
He didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t call her in.
Didn’t even look away when their eyes met.
Just turned and walked back into his office, the door closing behind him with a soft but unmistakable click.
Vanessa blinked.
Mike smiled.
— So… are all your bosses that intense?
She forced a laugh.
— That one? Only on days ending in “y.”
The next morning, the ice returned.
Not cold. Not professional.
Just… frozen.
Thomas didn’t speak to her until noon.
Then, as she placed a folder on his desk, he said:
— I’ll be gone for three days. Zurich again. Meeting my father.
She nodded.
— Should I prepare a brief?
— Already done.
A pause.
Then, softer:
— Be careful while I’m gone.
She looked up.
Frowned.
— Of what?
He hesitated.
Eyes unreadable.
— Just… be careful, Vanessa.
Before she could ask more, he turned away.
Dismissed.
Done.
But his voice had cracked just slightly on her name.
And that small fracture echoed longer than it should have.
That evening, Mike passed by her desk again. Joked about the printer. Asked if she wanted to grab coffee with the analytics team sometime.
Vanessa smiled.
Agreed.
She said yes.
And didn’t notice the flicker of movement behind the glass door.
But Thomas did.
Even from across the room.
Even as he packed for Zurich.
Even as he reminded himself that this wasn’t his business.
Even as it already felt like it was.
The flight to Zurich was uneventful.
The turbulence wasn’t in the sky — it was in Thomas’s head.
He sat in first class with his laptop open, pretending to read quarterly reports while his mind circled back to the same image over and over again:
Vanessa.
Laughing at her desk.
Leaning forward toward that Mike guy like she gave a damn what he had to say.
Thomas hated it.
Hated that he noticed.
Hated that he cared.
Hated that her smile was still in his head while he was halfway across the Atlantic.
It’s not jealousy, he told himself. It’s workplace dynamics. You’re protective. Responsible.
Bullshit.
He wasn’t responsible. He was unraveling.
And she was the thread.
—
The car met him at the airport, sleek and black like everything in his father's world.
Zurich was crisp, clean, indifferent.
Exactly how he wanted to feel.
Instead, he was thinking about the stupid vanilla latte he didn’t buy her this morning.
And wondering if she noticed.
And then his phone rang.
Amanda.
He stared at the name for a full five seconds before answering.
— What?
— Don’t what me, Thomas. You missed my message. Again.
— I’ve been on a plane.
— You always have an excuse lately. You’re never home. You’re never present. You leave me wondering if I should even bother anymore.
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
— Amanda, not now.
— When, then? When will it be a good time to talk about how you’ve completely shut me out?
He didn’t answer.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
He had shut her out.
But not because he stopped caring.
Because he stopped pretending.
— I’ll be back in three days, — he said flatly.
— And will you be back to me? Or just back to that damn company?
He sighed. Closed his eyes.
And the first image that came to mind wasn’t Amanda.
It was Vanessa.
Standing at his desk. Fire in her voice. Heat in her eyes.
Calling him out. Challenging him. Walking away.
Again and again, she walked away.
And every time — it stung more.
— Goodbye, Amanda.
He ended the call.
No anger. No shouting.
Just… exhaustion.
He sat back in the car.
The city rolled past outside.
He didn’t see any of it.
All he saw was the one woman he shouldn’t be thinking about.
And the one he couldn’t stop thinking about anyway.
- Writer
