Chapter 10: The Break
988 Words
It didn’t happen at work.
That was the difference, the quiet fracture in the pattern that had held for weeks without acknowledgment.
Athena was halfway through a report when her phone lit up beside her keyboard. An unfamiliar number. Her first instinct was to ignore it, to let it fade into the background of everything else that demanded attention.
She almost did.
Then it lit up again.
I miss you.
Her pen stopped mid-line.
For a moment, the office around her continued unchanged—keyboards clicking, distant voices, the steady hum of routine. But she was no longer fully inside it.
Another message followed.
That sounded more direct than I intended.
A pause.
But not inaccurate.
Her gaze lingered on the screen longer than it should have. Not because she didn’t recognize the voice behind it, but because she did.
She set the pen down.
Where did you get my number?
I asked.
Of course he did.
You’ve been avoiding Sales.
You noticed.
She didn’t reply immediately. The cursor of thought moved faster than her fingers.
Can we talk?
She stared at it for a long time.
We’re talking.
In person.
A quiet breath left her, controlled but unhidden.
Outside, the day had already begun to shift into evening, light thinning into a softer edge over the city. When she finally left the building, the air felt heavier, as though it had been waiting for her decision.
Her steps slowed slightly when she saw him.
“Athena.”
She turned.
Bobby stood a few paces away, not blocking her path, not closing distance that wasn’t invited. Just there, as if he had been waiting long enough for patience to become part of the moment.
“You planned that,” she said.
“I hoped,” he replied.
A pause passed between them, careful and measured.
“You sent the message,” she said.
“I did.”
“That’s new.”
“I’m adjusting.”
A faint shift touched his expression, almost imperceptible.
“That’s your line.”
“I use it better,” he said.
Something in that almost pulled a response from her, something close to a smile that never fully formed.
“You said you missed me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I did.”
There was nothing elaborate in it. No framing, no defense. Just the answer as it existed.
She held his gaze a moment longer than necessary.
“I’ll drive you home,” he said after a beat.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I know.”
A pause.
“I’m offering.”
She exhaled quietly, weighing nothing and everything at once.
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Alright.”
No argument followed. No insistence. He simply accepted it.
That, more than anything, stayed with her.
“You shouldn’t have sent that message.”
“I know.”
“And you did anyway.”
“Yes.”
Silence settled between them, not awkward, but unfinished.
“That complicates things,” she said.
“They already were.”
Another pause.
“I’ll see you at work,” he said.
“Yeah.”
She stepped back first, then turned away.
This time, she did not look back.
But her pace was slower than usual, as though the air itself had changed density around her thoughts.
Bobby remained where he was until she disappeared into the flow of the street, blending into motion and distance until there was nothing left to track.
Only then did he exhale.
“That didn’t fade,” he said quietly.
The bar was quieter than it needed to be, the kind of place where sound didn’t demand attention, only accompanied thought.
Joey noticed it immediately.
Then he noticed it again.
“You’re off,” he said finally.
Bobby didn’t respond right away. His glass sat in front of him, untouched in a way that already answered more than his silence did.
“I’m not usually like this,” he said at last.
Joey leaned back slightly. “Like what?”
“Distracted.”
A pause settled between them.
“Over a woman?” Joey asked.
“…Yeah.”
That was enough to change nothing outwardly, but everything in understanding.
Joey studied him for a moment longer, expression shifting into something more deliberate.
“That’s not your pattern.”
“It’s not.”
Silence returned, but it was no longer empty.
“She has someone back home,” Bobby said.
Joey nodded once, like he already knew where this was going.
“And you’re still here.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause, heavier this time.
“Does she feel it too?” Joey asked.
Bobby didn’t answer immediately. The question didn’t require guessing. It required admission.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I think… I know she does.”
His jaw tightened slightly, gaze dropping to the glass before him, then steadying again as if correcting something internal.
“I need to believe she does.”
Joey let the silence hold, then exhaled through his nose.
“Heavier this way,” he said.
“It already is.”
Bobby didn’t look away from the glass.
“She knows where the line is,” he said. “She doesn’t cross it.”
“But she doesn’t leave either.”
That landed differently.
Bobby didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
“Province?” Joey asked after a moment.
“Small,” Bobby said. “Close-knit. Families involved.”
Joey nodded slowly. “So it’s not simple.”
“No.”
Another pause stretched between them.
“And you?” Joey asked.
Bobby leaned back slightly, gaze steady now, no longer searching for answers in the glass.
“I don’t usually stay.”
“I know.”
“But you are.”
Bobby didn’t respond at first. Then he picked up his glass, only to set it down again before drinking.
“I know,” he said quietly.
- Writer
