Chapter 18: Untitled

Chapter 18

The office buzzed with energy, but Stella sat frozen in her seat, her fingers trembling over the trackpad of her laptop. Her ears still rang with Patricia’s voice, the words etched into her memory like acid on glass:

 “I’m excited to announce... Richard and I are getting married. We’ve set a date.” Gasps and scattered applause had followed—some genuine, others awkward—but Stella had heard none of it. All she saw was Richard. His shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched tight as if each muscle fought to keep his real feelings hidden. He hadn’t looked at her. Not once. That was what stung the most.

David had been the one who noticed. He always noticed.

During the lunch break, he gently tapped her shoulder. “Walk with me?” he asked, his tone soft, cautious. She nodded, grateful for a reason to escape the pressure cooker of whispers and eyes that followed her every move.

Outside, under the soft shade of the flame tree, Stella exhaled deeply, the air trembling from her lungs. David didn’t push her to speak. He stood beside her, arms folded, his eyes scanning the distance.

After a long silence, he finally said, “You don’t have to say anything. But if you ever want to scream or punch something, I’ll hold the pillow.” A small, surprised laugh escaped her lips. It came out raw, wounded, but real. She turned to him. “How do you do that?” she asked. “Do what?”

“Make things easier… even when everything is falling apart?”

David’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I just want you to know that you're not alone.”

The words pierced deeper than she expected. And in that moment, something inside her shifted. She looked at David—really looked at him—not as her colleague, not as the calm, funny guy who always had her back, but as a man. A man who had been quietly standing in the shadows, loving her without demands, without noise.

Her chest tightened.

He noticed the way her eyes lingered, and his breath caught. But then, he stepped back—literally.

“I’m not trying to complicate things,” he said quickly, voice a little unsteady. “You don’t need more pressure. I just wanted you to know… I care. That’s all.”

Stella blinked. His retreat hurt more than she expected. But maybe he was right. Her heart was still tangled in knots, torn between past and possibility.

Back in the office, the announcement lingered like smoke. Richard avoided her gaze, yet she could feel his eyes on her every time she turned away. Guilt dripped from him like sweat. His engagement to Patricia wasn’t love—it was pressure. It was a consequence. And she knew it.

Patricia, on the other hand, walked with the air of a woman who had won. Her smile was too bright, her touch on Richard’s arm too possessive. But Stella saw the desperation behind it.

Later that evening, as Stella gathered her bag to leave, Richard stopped her by the elevator.

“Can we talk?” he asked, voice low.

She looked at him, expression unreadable. “What’s left to say?”

He hesitated. “I didn’t plan it. The announcement. She blindsided me.”

“But you still stood there,” she replied, eyes sharp. “You didn’t stop her.”

“I couldn’t… not without making it worse.”

“Worse for who? For her? Or for you?”

Richard swallowed, guilt flickering in his eyes. “For all of us.” She laughed bitterly. “No, Richard. Just for you.”

The elevator doors opened. She stepped in. “I loved you,” she said softly, “and maybe a part of me still does… but not enough to keep losing myself.”

The doors slid shut.

From the hallway, David watched her go, pride and heartbreak mingling on his face. He turned away, hiding the storm behind his smile.

That night, Stella sat alone in her apartment, sipping tea she didn’t taste. Her phone buzzed. A message from David:

 “You were strong today. I saw it. I hope you see it too.”

She stared at the message for a long time, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

Maybe this was how healing began—not with fireworks or declarations, but with quiet, steady love… waiting just outside the storm.