BOUND BY ONE NIGHT

Chapter10

Lavender POV

I didn’t think guilt could feel physical. But it sat in my stomach like a cold stone, heavy enough to tilt my whole body out of balance. I made it through the morning only because I pretended not to see Alex, or maybe I actually couldn’t look at him.

Either way, I kept my head down, kept my fingers busy, kept my breathing steady. But everything felt louder, footsteps, keyboards, ringing phones. Even the air conditioner hummed too sharply, like it was cutting at my nerves. I kept hearing him say, “You can leave it on the desk.” so neutral, so distant.

Last night felt like something I’d imagined. Like a fever dream with too much heat and not enough sense. But the memory lived in my skin. My mouth. My breath. Every part of me felt aware of him, even from across the building. I hated it, i missed it, both truths hurt.

By noon, the tightness in my chest had grown into something I couldn’t manage. Something brittle and stretched thin. So when Margaret’s text came through “Lunch. Conference room B. Now.” I nearly groaned with relief. At least someone had noticed I was unravelling.

I gathered my things and slipped into the hallway. The conference room was empty when I arrived, except for Margaret standing at the table with a steaming cup of tea and a small bag of pastries. She didn’t smile, hat alone was enough to make my throat close up.

“Sit,” she said softly. I sank into the chair, clasping my hands together to keep them still. She placed the tea in front of me and took the seat across from mine. For a moment, she just looked at me.

She’d always had this motherly calm to her, a warmth tucked beneath a firm exterior. Today, the warmth was still there, but it was threaded with something sharper. Concern, maybe. Or suspicion.

“You look unwell,” she said finally.

“I’m fine,” I whispered.

“Lavender.” Her voice carried no judgment, but it did carry finality. “What happened?”

My eyes burned instantly. I didn’t want to cry. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t cry at work. But the question punctured something, and I felt the tears pressing upward.

“It’s nothing,” I tried again.

“The only time people say it’s nothing,” Margaret said gently, “is when it’s something.” I pressed my lips together hard. She waited. Silence stretched. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff I couldn’t step away from.

Finally, I exhaled.

“I made a mistake,” I whispered, staring down at my hands.

“What kind of mistake?” The kind that could destroy my job. My self-respect. My understanding of who I was supposed to be. I swallowed. “A personal one.”

Margaret nodded slowly. “Did this personal mistake involve someone here?” I flinched. Her face softened. “I’m not asking to judge you. I’m asking so I know how to help you.” I wiped a tear that had already slipped down. “I don’t know if there’s any helping.”

She leaned back, studying me with an expression that made my chest ache, patient but firm.

“All right,” she said. “Then let’s start with something simple. How are you feeling?”

The words burst out before I could stop them. “Guilty.” She nodded.

“And confused. And stupid. I feel stupid, Margaret.” My voice cracked, and I covered my face with my hands. “And I can’t even think straight because I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know how to look him in the eye. I don’t know how to act like things are normal.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Him.” I froze. She waited, not pushing. My voice came out barely audible. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Things like this often aren’t.”

“I feel like I ruined everything,” I whispered. “My job... my reputation… him.” Margaret’s expression tightened at the last word.

“Lavender,” she said slowly, “was he… inappropriate with you?” The question hit me hard because the answer was complicated.

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “It wasn’t that. I wasn’t pressured. It wasn’t… wrong like that.”

“Then what’s hurting you?”

I let out a trembling breath. “Because he acted like nothing happened this morning. Like it didn’t mean anything. Like I should just hand him a document and pretend I didn’t…”

My voice broke.

“Pretend I didn’t touch him. Pretend he didn’t touch me.”

Margaret’s features shifted, understanding, sympathy, something sharper beneath.

“And what do you want it to mean?” I hesitated, staring at the tea I hadn’t touched.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. Because the truth was terrifying.

I didn’t want a relationship, not with him. Not with anyone. Not after everything I had messed up already in my life. I wasn’t steady enough, secure enough, brave enough.

And yet…

Last night had cracked open something I’d buried a long time ago, want, warmth, fearlessness, a sense of being wanted instead of tolerated. I whispered, “I just… didn’t want it to feel like a mistake.”

Margaret’s eyes softened. “It doesn’t sound like it felt like a mistake to you. Only to him.” A sharp pain hit my chest.

“I think that’s what hurts the most,” I said. “That he can go back to his life like nothing happened, while I’m here falling apart.”

“Well,” Margaret said slowly, “men rarely walk away clean. They just pretend better.” I let out a shaky laugh, small, brittle.

Her gaze grew serious. “Lavender… is he single?” My heart stopped, i didn’t answer.

That was answer enough. Margaret inhaled, long and deliberate. “Oh, Lavender…”

“I know,” I whispered, tears spilling again. “I know. I shouldn’t have”

“Stop,” she said firmly. “Don’t beat yourself bloody. You’re human.” I shook my head, tears slipping faster. “It still feels wrong.”

“It is complicated,” she said. “But shame won’t guide you anywhere except deeper into confusion.” I breathed shakily, wiping my eyes. “I just want things to go back to normal.” She frowned slightly. “Do you?” I hesitated, i didn’t know anymore.

“I want the guilt to stop,” I said. “And the confusion. And the… longing.” I whispered the last word like it was something dangerous. Margaret sat back. “Then let me tell you the truth. You don’t have to figure all of this out today. You don’t have to solve it, or define it, or run from it.” I stared at her.

“All you need today,” she said gently, “is to breathe. Eat. Work slowly. Let the storm settle before you decide what direction to step in next.” My chest loosened just enough to inhale fully again. She reached out and squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone. Not while I’m here.” A soft, broken sound escaped me. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed someone to tell me that.

We stayed like that for a moment, quiet, steadying. Then Margaret cleared her throat. “Now. You’re going to go wash your face, drink that tea, and breathe. I’ll cover the next hour for you.”

I nodded, wiping my cheeks again. “Thank you.” She smiled gently. “You’re allowed to be human. Even here.” I stood, clutching the tea like a lifeline, and walked toward the bathroom. My steps felt lighter, not fixed, not whole, but not drowning either. And as I splashed cool water over my face, one thought pulsed through me with terrifying clarity.

I wasn’t ready to face Alex again. But I didn’t think I could keep avoiding him either, both paths hurt. And somewhere between them, I had to find the version of myself who could survive this.