Natalie Knows the Truth
1312 Words
Natalie didn’t knock.
She never did.
The door to Alicia’s apartment opened with the soft, familiar click of a code that had never been changed, not out of sentiment, but trust. Alicia looked up from the kitchen counter where she was portioning vegetables with surgical precision and allowed herself a single, quiet exhale.
“Your timing is aggressive,” she said.
Natalie stepped inside, heels discarded by the door, blazer already halfway off her shoulders. “Your definition of aggressive is deeply flawed,” she replied. “It’s only nineteen hundred. Normal people are still awake.”
Alicia slid the knife back into its block and turned. Natalie was everything the apartment was not, colour where there was restraint, movement where there was order. Her hair was still impeccably styled despite the hour, her lipstick unapologetically bold. She carried energy with her the way other people carried perfume.
“You’re early,” Alicia said instead.
Natalie smiled. “You’re avoiding the point.”
She crossed the space without hesitation, perching on one of the bar stools as if it had been designed for her alone. Her gaze swept the apartment, clean lines, neutral tones, the quiet hum of control.
“Still no art,” she observed. “No photos, or plants. No evidence you exist outside spreadsheets and project plans.”
Alicia returned to her prep, unfazed. “Existence is overrated.”
“Mm.” Natalie rested her chin in her hand. “That’s what people say when they’ve mistaken safety for living.”
Alicia didn’t respond. Natalie didn’t need her to.
They had met years ago in a conference room that smelled faintly of burnt coffee and desperation. Two consultants on opposite sides of a failing programme, both quietly clocking the same issues no one else wanted to name. Natalie had spoken first, sharp, fearless, publicly. Alicia had followed, calmly dismantling the objections that came her way with facts no one could argue.
By the end of the meeting, the room had shifted.
By the end of the project, they had become allies.
By the end of the year, confidants.
And somewhere along the way, without ceremony, without declarations, Natalie had learned the truth.
The whole truth.
“You’re late today,” Natalie said, watching Alicia with practiced attention. “Not late-late. But late for you.”
Alicia shrugged. “Executive update ran long.”
“Mm. And?”
“And what?”
Natalie smiled slowly. “And who is he?”
Alicia paused. Just briefly. Enough.
“There is no he.”
Natalie laughed, delighted. “You say that like it’s a policy.”
Alicia turned, folding her arms. “If you’re here to psychoanalyse me, you can leave.”
Natalie leaned back, unbothered. “If I were psychoanalysing you, we’d need wine. I’m observing.”
“Observing what?”
“The fact that for the first time in three years, you’re fractionally out of rhythm.” She tilted her head. “Fractional, Alicia. Don’t panic.”
Alicia met her gaze evenly. “You didn’t come here for small talk.”
“No.” Natalie’s expression softened. “I came because HR called me.”
Alicia stilled.
“What did they say?”
Natalie raised a brow. “Interesting. You usually pretend HR doesn’t exist.”
“What did they say?” Alicia repeated.
“They’re very pleased with themselves,” Natalie replied. “New partnership. New deployment strategy. They’ve assigned a data lead across two high‑priority programmes.”
Alicia’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“And?”
“And,” Natalie continued lightly, “he’s very good. Apparently you hand‑picked him.”
“I did,” Alicia said.
“Mm. And he’s on both projects.”
Alicia exhaled slowly. “That’s a problem.”
Natalie’s smile widened. “That’s an entertaining problem.”
“You find this amusing,” Alicia said flatly.
“I find you amusing.” Natalie leaned forward. “Because you built an empire and then decided to haunt it instead of ruling it.”
“I rule it,” Alicia said. “Just quietly.”
Natalie studied her for a long moment. “He’s already noticed you.”
Alicia scoffed. “Unlikely.”
“Please,” Natalie said. “You underestimate the effect you have on competent men. Especially ones who don’t care about hierarchy and do care about patterns.”
Alicia turned back to the counter, resuming her work. “He’ll lose interest.”
Natalie laughed. “Oh, Alicia.”
“What?”
“That’s not how people like him work.”
“And you know this how?”
“Because people like him are the reason people like you learned to disappear.” Natalie paused. “Except he’s not trying to own you. He’s trying to understand you.”
Alicia’s hands slowed.
“That’s worse,” she said quietly.
Natalie softened. “You don’t trust curiosity.”
“No,” Alicia replied. “I don’t survive it.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of shared history pressing gently between them.
“You know,” Natalie said finally, “there was a time you couldn’t hide if you tried.”
Alicia didn’t look up. “That was a long time ago.”
“You were brilliant,” Natalie said. “Loud about it. Not obnoxious, just present.”
“I was reckless,” Alicia corrected.
“You were open.”
Alicia set the knife down. “And look where that got me.”
Natalie’s gaze sharpened, all humour gone. “It got you here.”
She gestured around the apartment, not dismissively, but deliberately.
“Alive. Independent. Powerful.”
Alicia met her eyes. “At a cost.”
“Yes,” Natalie agreed. “But not a permanent one.”
Alicia shook her head. “I’m not dismantling what I’ve built because HR hired someone observant.”
“No one’s asking you to,” Natalie said. “I’m just saying, you don’t have to punish yourself forever.”
“I’m not being punished.”
Natalie smiled sadly. “You’re being managed.”
That landed.
Alicia looked away.
Natalie stood, moving closer, lowering her voice. “You are not Vicky anymore. You don’t need to shrink to stay safe. You don’t need to be invisible to be in control.”
Alicia’s voice was steady. “Invisibility works.”
“For now,” Natalie said. “But secrets are only safe until they’re seen.”
Alicia met her gaze. “You’ve known for years.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell anyone.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Natalie smiled, fierce and fond. “Because it’s yours. And because I know the difference between privacy and shame.”
Alicia swallowed.
“Just be careful,” Natalie added. “This one, this Nate, he’s not like the others.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already named him.”
Natalie grinned. “HR talks. Also, I’m very good at reading rooms.”
Alicia allowed herself the faintest smile. “You enjoy this.”
“Immensely.”
Natalie grabbed her blazer and headed for the door. “Text me if he figures it out.”
“He won’t.”
Natalie paused, hand on the handle. “And when he does?”
Alicia’s reflection stared back at her from the darkened window, composed, controlled, unreadable.
“Then I’ll adapt,” she said.
Natalie’s smile softened. “That’s my girl.”
The door closed behind her, the apartment settling back into silence.
Alicia stood alone in the kitchen, the neat order of her life intact.
For now.
But somewhere beneath the structure, beneath the systems and routines, something shifted, small, almost imperceptible.
And for the first time in a very long while, Alicia wasn’t entirely sure whether she wanted to put it back exactly the way it was.
- Writer
