The floor-to-ceiling windows of Kingsley’s office overlooked the gray glass sprawl of the city, light drizzle tracing delicate rivers down the panes. It was late afternoon, and though his screen displayed the quarterly projections he was meant to be reviewing, his mind wasn’t on numbers. Not today.
Stacks of files sat unopened beside his keyboard, the same report he’d scrolled through three times remained unread, and the espresso in his cup had gone cold an hour ago.
His phone buzzed softly. A w******p notification.
Devon
Kingsley picked up the phone, grateful for the distraction. They have been in contact since the retreat ended—a small but steady tether to the calm they’d both found at the wellness camp.
Devon:
Hey man, what’s up?
I thought you were getting back to Katherine. What
