AFTER HOUR'S

Diane's POV

By Friday evening, almost everyone had gone home.

The office floor, usually alive with ringing phones and hurried conversations, had fallen into a peaceful silence.

Only a handful of lights remained on.

Including mine.

I rubbed my eyes as another spreadsheet blurred together.

"You're still here?"

His voice startled me.

I looked up.

Abe stood outside my office holding two paper coffee cups.

I sighed.

"You have a habit of sneaking up on people."

"I knocked."

"I didn't hear you."

"I figured."

He stepped inside and placed one cup on my desk.

"I remembered."

I frowned.

"I didn't ask for coffee."

"No."

He smiled.

"But you're drinking caramel lattes again."

I blinked.

"I switched back after college."

"I noticed."

Of course he had.

I stared at the cup for a long moment before taking it.

"...Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He glanced at the stack of files covering my desk.

"Still working on the Hamilton proposal?"

"You know I am."

"I finished my part."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Are you bragging?"

"A little."

I laughed quietly.

"You haven't changed."

His grin widened.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Without asking, he pulled out the chair across from my desk.

"You staying?"

"If you don't mind."

"I probably should."

"So that's a no?"

I shook my head.

"I've learned arguing with you is exhausting."

"You used to enjoy it."

"I used to be twenty."

"And now?"

"I'm wiser."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

I rolled my eyes.

"Impossible."

"Frequently."

For the next hour, we worked in comfortable silence.

Every now and then one of us would ask a question about the project.

The other would answer.

Simple.

Professional.

Easy.

Too easy.

It reminded me of college.

Countless nights spent in libraries.

Coffee cups everywhere.

Books spread across tables.

Competing to finish assignments first.

Back then we'd always ended up distracting each other more than studying.

I smiled at the memory.

Abe noticed immediately.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You smiled."

"So?"

"It wasn't a work smile."

I laughed.

"There's such a thing as a work smile?"

"There is now."

I shook my head.

"You make absolutely no sense."

"I never had to."

"What does that mean?"

"You always understood me anyway."

The room became quiet again.

Different this time.

He wasn't wrong.

There had been a time when I understood every expression on his face.

Every shift in his voice.

Every glance.

Sometimes I knew what he was thinking before he said a word.

That kind of connection didn't disappear overnight.

Even years later...

Pieces of it remained.

"Diane?"

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

I hesitated.

"Depends."

"Are you happy?"

The question caught me off guard.

I looked down at the papers in front of me.

Was I happy?

With my career?

Absolutely.

With the company I'd built?

Without question.

With my life?

I thought of quiet weekends.

My apartment.

My friends.

Then I thought of Zephyr.

His patience.

His kindness.

The way he always made room for my feelings.

A small smile appeared.

"Yes."

Abe nodded once.

"I'm glad."

There was no bitterness in his voice.

No sarcasm.

Just...relief.

That surprised me.

"You mean that?"

"I do."

I studied him carefully.

"You really want me to be happy?"

"I always did."

The words settled somewhere deep inside me.

A younger version of me would've believed them instantly.

The woman I was now...

Needed proof.

"I wasn't very good at showing it."

He looked down at his hands.

"I know that."

His honesty made it difficult to stay guarded.

"You know..."

I spoke quietly.

"I spent a long time wondering why I wasn't enough."

His head snapped up.

"What?"

"After we broke up."

The confession slipped out before I could stop it.

"I kept asking myself what I could've done differently."

His expression crumbled.

"Diane..."

"I know better now."

I offered him a small smile.

"But back then..."

I shrugged.

"I thought if I'd been prettier..."

I laughed softly.

"...or thinner..."

His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood.

"No."

His voice was firm.

Almost angry.

"No."

I blinked.

"Abe"

"Don't."

He took a slow breath.

"Don't ever believe that."

I searched his face.

"I made you feel that way."

It wasn't a question.

It was a realization.

His shoulders slumped.

"I did that."

The guilt in his eyes looked painfully real.

"I was an idiot."

Silence filled the office.

"I spent years trying to become someone who wouldn't hear your voice every time she looked in a mirror."

His eyes closed.

Each word seemed to hurt him.

"I know."

"No."

I shook my head.

"You know now."

Another silence.

When he finally looked at me again, there was a vulnerability I'd never seen before.

"I wish I could take every single one of those moments back."