Do you know that feeling when you hold your very first major paycheck in your hands? The kind that makes your chest puff out a little, that makes every all-nighter, every cram session, every second you doubted yourself suddenly worth it?

That was me today.

It wasn't just money—it was proof. Proof that I could take care of myself, that I could stand on my own feet. Proof that I was no longer just a student hanging on the edge of a dream, but an actual man with a place in the world.

And the best part? Val already knew. She already looked at me like I was somebody before this day even came. That thought alone nearly doubled my excitement.

Gray & Milton didn't disappoint. For an entry-level financial analyst, the paycheck was… fat. Not billionaire fat, not lottery-fat, but the kind of fat that made my eyebrows raise when I saw the number on the slip. I wasn't rich—but I was a long way from broke. And the unspoken promise hung there: keep working, keep proving myself, and the "big money" would eventually become "big-big money."

The very first thing I did was send money to Naomi. My sister had been my anchor for years, and today I finally got to give back. She almost cried over the phone, her voice cracking as she told me how proud she was.

"Little brother's grown up," she teased, but I could hear the warmth under her words.

After that, I called Val.

Her smile filled my screen instantly, like she had been waiting for this call all day. And maybe she had—she always seemed to know when I needed her the most.

"You look too smug," she said, squinting suspiciously.

I laughed. "Smug? This is the face of a financially independent man, thank you very much."

Her brows rose. "Oh, really? So, how much we talking?"

I leaned back in my chair dramatically. "Enough to spoil you."

That earned me the grin, wide and bright. "You already spoil me," she said softly.

I was about to answer when a shadow passed in the corner of my screen. Derrick leaned down from behind my chair, his head suddenly filling the frame.

"Val!" he greeted like she was an old friend.

"Derrick" she answered, equally warm.

Then, of course, he had to ruin it. "You know, your husband here hardly hangs out with us. Always buried in work, or on the phone with you."

I rolled my eyes. Val, on the other hand, tilted her head thoughtfully, lips pursing like she was pretending to consider.

"You should hang out with them more," she said, and I narrowed my eyes.

Then her smirk broke through. "But no talking to any girls."

"Impossible," I countered, chuckling. "Half my team are women."

"Then don't look at them," she shot back quickly, nose scrunching.

Derrick laughed and excused himself, muttering something about how I was "whipped." I let him go. Val and I kept talking a little longer before she had to run to her evening class.

By then, my whole day felt golden. Naomi was happy. Val was proud. Work was good. My paycheck was sitting snug in my account.

Today was perfect.

Too perfect.

I should have known better.

By the time I got back from the office, the glow of the day still hadn't worn off. I showered, reheated leftovers, and sat down to eat while replaying every conversation in my head. I couldn't stop smiling.

Halfway through dinner, a knock rattled my door.

I frowned. Visitors weren't exactly a thing here. Trent sometimes, maybe Marina. But tonight? No one had said a word about coming by.

I set my fork down, padded to the door, and pulled it open.

Avery stood there.

And just like that, the perfect day snapped.

It didn't matter that she was smiling politely, or that she looked like she hadn't thought this through. The simple fact that she was standing on my doorstep sent my chest into a knot.

Suddenly, the check in my account, Naomi's laughter, Val's smile on my phone screen—all of it felt like the setup to some cruel punchline I hadn't seen coming.

---

For a second, neither of us spoke. She stood there in the hallway, hands curled at her sides, her expression uncertain.

"Hi," she said softly.

The word hovered between us. My first instinct was to answer, but the sound caught in my throat. Instead, what left my mouth was sharper, steadier.

"You're a long way from home."

Her lips curved into the faintest attempt at humor. "Is it that obvious?"

I didn't answer, because anything I said would've sounded cruel. And if she said anything other than what she just did, I would've felt like the villain for pointing it out. So I just let the silence hang, until finally I asked, "What brings you here?"

Her head tilted, hair slipping over her shoulder as she studied me. "You're not gonna let me in?"

"Would I be safe if I did?" The words slipped out before I could think better of them.

She blinked, caught off guard, and actually paused—like she was weighing the question.

My brow arched. "Wow. You're thinking about it."

She let out a small laugh, shoulders lifting in an exaggerated shrug. "Well, it's… an important decision to make." Her tone was playful, like she was pretending to weigh the fate of nations instead of a doorstep.

It was supposed to be funny. Supposed to lighten the air between us.

I didn't laugh. Not even close.

Her eyes dropped to the floor, shoulders pulling in slightly. "I won't… do anything I'm not supposed to." Her voice was quiet, genuine—almost hurt.

Something in my chest shifted.

When she lifted her gaze again, there was no teasing there, no smile, just a kind of raw honesty that unsettled me. "Promise," she whispered.

I exhaled, running a hand down my face before stepping aside. "Fine. Come in."

She slipped past me with a small nod of thanks. Her steps were soft, almost cautious, as though she knew she was crossing into dangerous ground.

Her eyes caught on the table almost immediately—the half-eaten plate of food waiting there.

She glanced back at me, hesitant. "Can I... join you?"

I froze. The question was simple, but loaded.

She gestured lightly, pointing toward the plate, almost like a child asking for permission.

I followed her hand with my eyes, then nodded once. "Yeah. Sure." The word came out flat, like permission I hadn't meant to give.

Her lips twitched like she noticed, but she didn't press. Instead, she slipped off her coat and sat across from me.

We ate. In silence.

The clink of cutlery against plates filled the air, each sound sharper than it should've been. My appetite had already dimmed the second I'd opened the door, but I forced myself to finish, refusing to let her presence rattle me more than it already had.

She wasn't eating much either, pushing food around her plate more than anything. Every few seconds, I caught her fingers fumbling together beneath the table, twisting and untwisting like she didn't know what else to do with them.

Finally, I set my fork down and leaned back. My eyes lingered on her for a beat before I spoke.

"Avery."

Her head lifted quickly. "Yeah?"

I held her gaze. "You came over."

It wasn't a question. Not really. But I needed her to fill in the silence.

She blinked, as if she hadn't expected me to be so direct.

"Reason?" I pressed.

"Oh." She looked down again, her fingers knotting tighter. "I… I was just driving and…" Her voice faltered, softening to something almost fragile. "And I somehow found myself here."

The words hit harder than I wanted them to.

Something in my chest twisted—not guilt exactly, but something close to it. A heaviness I couldn't name. Because that wasn't a rehearsed excuse. It wasn't even an excuse at all. It was raw, and simple, and painfully real.

She hadn't planned this. She hadn't thought it through. She had just… ended up here.

And somehow, that made it worse.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at her across the table. She still wasn't looking at me, her gaze fixed on the fork in her hand like it was the only thing anchoring her.

I realized then that this night wasn't going to be short.

Not with her here.

Not with the way the air had shifted.

Not with what she just admitted.

This, this was going to be a long night.

---

To be continued...

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