My days returned to their usual madness — school drop-offs, investors with fragile egos, ignored text threads from my mother about "promising bachelors," late-night emails, early-morning fires. The folder he left sat buried under quarterly reports, exactly where I intended it to die. I refused to give it oxygen. I refused to give him meaning.Two weeks passed without a sighting. Two weeks without a knock on my office door, a shadow in my doorway, or a message that made my pulse trip over itself.
It had been two weeks since Ahmir Wolfe backed me against the mirrored wall of an elevator and crossed every line I swore no man would ever approach again. And for fourteen days, I repeated the same lie: This silence is a blessing. I pretended the absence meant peace. I pretended the quiet meant fr
