Chapter 19: Ghosts in the Glass
Anna
Surviving the first week at Cavendish & Blake meant learning how to hold my breath every time I turned a corner.
It wasn't just the pressure of a new job—though that was very real. The expectations here were sky-high, the pace unforgiving. But it was the unspoken weight that followed me through every corridor.
Kelvin
He didn't hover. He didn't check in. He didn't even speak to me after that moment in the boardroom and the tension-laced conversation in his office. But somehow, his presence lingered in every glass wall, every closed door. I felt him like a storm in the distance, rumbling quietly, waiting to break.
I managed to avoid him for six straight days.
Barely.
My schedule became a map of evasion. I took my coffee breaks early, left meetings the second they ended, memorized his calendar from the internal portal just enough to stay out of his path. I worked late when he left early, left early when he came in late.
It felt childish.
But I was drowning.
Because no one told you what it felt like to see the boy you once loved grow into a man who haunted you with his silence, with his power, with the way he pretended nothing had ever happened.
On Wednesday, I caught a glimpse of him at the end of the hallway walking with Kara, deep in conversation. His brow was furrowed, mouth set in that sharp, unreadable line. He didn't see me.
But I saw the way my body reacted. The full-body jolt. The instinct to run or hide or cry—or all three.
I ducked into the break room like a coward.
"Hey, new girl," someone said behind me.
I turned. Mason. One of the project leads. Young, easy smile, flirty in the way men are when they think they're subtle.
"You okay?" he asked. "You looked like you saw a ghost."
Worse, I thought. I saw the past.
"Just tired," I said with a smile I didn't feel.
"You've been killing it this week," he said. "Most people are still trying to figure out where the copy room is, and you're already navigating senior briefs."
"Thanks," I replied. "I like being busy."
He grinned. "If you ever want to decompress after work, a bunch of us are getting drinks Friday. Come out. Let off some steam."
I opened my mouth to decline, but then
Maybe I should go out.
Be social. Normal. Not the girl shaking in elevators and avoiding one man like he still had power over her body.
So I nodded. "Yeah, maybe."
The truth was I hadn't told my boyfriend back in Chicago about Kelvin
Not yet.
Not about the job. Not about the shared history. Not about how my hands still trembled sometimes when I thought about that night.
Guilt chewed at me. But I kept pushing forward. That's what I did now. I smiled. I organized files. I drafted presentations. I spoke up in meetings.
But on Thursday, I made a mistake.
I was in the copy room, alone, trying to fix a jammed machine. My hair was tied up. My sleeves rolled.
I heard the door open.
Didn't look up until I felt it.
That tension in the air. That shift in gravity.
Kelvin.
Our eyes met. For a second only a second neither of us moved.
Then I stepped back. "I'll be done in a minute."
"You're fine," he said, voice low. "It's your space too."
But he didn't move closer. He stood there, watching me.
"You've been busy," he added. "Avoiding me must be exhausting."
My fingers tightened around the edge of the copier.
"I've been working," I said.
"I noticed."
Silence pulsed between us.
Then, he stepped forward only slightly. Just enough to lower his voice.
"You can run from me all you want, Anna. But we both know this isn't over."
I swallowed. "Yes, it is."
He leaned in, not touching me. Just close enough to breathe the same air. "Then why are you still shaking?"
I bolted papers still stuck in the machine.
I made it to the bathroom before the tears came.
Not because I hated him.
But because he was right.
And I didn't know how much longer I could pretend he wasn't still under my skin.