I hurried down the hallway, the heels of my shoes clicking against the marble floor. The file I needed to deliver to Caleb was tucked tightly under my arm, a routine task, but my pulse was faster than usual. My mind kept going back to Monica’s face at the last event—a subtle smirk that never left her lips, the way she whispered into Caleb’s father’s ear. I couldn’t shake it off. She was everywhere lately, inserting herself in ways that felt too deliberate, too personal.
I reached Caleb’s office, the door slightly ajar. I lifted my hand to knock but paused when I heard voices inside. One of them was Caleb’s. The other was unmistakably Monica.
“I just don’t see why you’re dragging this out,” Monica’s voice was low but clear, dripping with smugness. “Your father and I have already talked about it. You know this is what’s best for the family.”
My hand froze in midair. What was she talking about? I leaned closer, my breath catching in my throat. The tension in Caleb’s voice was palpable, even through the crack in the door.
“Monica, I’ve told you before. Things aren’t that simple. I’ve moved on,” Caleb said, his tone calm but strained.
Moved on? My stomach twisted at his words. Was Monica still in his life in ways he hadn’t told me? I shouldn’t be listening. I knew that. But my feet refused to move, my heart hammering against my chest as I strained to catch every word.
“Oh, come on, Caleb,” Monica purred. “We had something special. Your father knows it. Everyone knows it. This thing with her…” I heard her scoff, and I clenched the file tighter. “It’s just temporary. Your father will come around, and when he does, you and I both know who he’ll expect you to end up with.”
Her confidence was unsettling, but what cut me deeper was the silence that followed. Caleb wasn’t refuting it. My heart dropped. I took a step back, trying to steady my breathing, my thoughts racing. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was trying to protect me. Or maybe…
I knocked, louder than I intended. The voices inside cut off immediately.
“Come in,” Caleb called, his tone flat.
I pushed the door open, trying to keep my expression neutral as I stepped inside. Monica was seated on the couch, legs crossed, her lips curved in that familiar smirk. Caleb stood behind his desk, arms crossed, tension visible in the tightness of his jaw.
“I just came to drop this off,” I said, lifting the file slightly. My voice sounded steadier than I felt.
Caleb’s eyes softened when he saw me, but there was something else there—something that made me question everything I’d overheard. Monica didn’t even bother to hide her amusement.
“How professional of you,” she said, her gaze flicking from me to Caleb, a small smile playing on her lips. “Though I must admit, it’s a bit strange seeing you here in the office. I thought your… role was more for show.”
Her words stung, but I swallowed the retort that burned on my tongue. I couldn’t let her get to me. Not here. Not now.
“I’m capable of more than just appearances,” I said evenly, meeting her gaze. “But I’m sure you already know that.”
Monica’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before she could respond, Caleb stepped forward, taking the file from my hand. His fingers brushed mine, the familiar warmth that usually reassured me now making me feel more confused than ever.
“Thank you, Sam,” he said quietly, his eyes lingering on mine. There was an apology in them, but for what? For letting Monica be here? For not shutting her down the way I hoped he would?
Monica stood up, brushing invisible lint from her designer dress. “I’ll leave you two to… whatever this is.” She turned to Caleb, her voice dripping with familiarity. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk again, Caleb. You know where to find me.” And with that, she sauntered out of the room, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the silence in the room was deafening. I stood there, unsure of what to say or how to feel. Caleb was the first to speak.
“Sam, I—”
“Why is she here?” I blurted out, unable to hold it in any longer. My voice wasn’t angry, just tired. Tired of feeling like I was in a game I didn’t fully understand.
Caleb sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My father invited her. She’s been pushing this narrative that we’re still… something.”
“And what do you think?” I asked, my voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way I hated.
He stepped closer, reaching for me, but I stepped back. “Sam, I told you before, it’s not like that. My father… he’s holding onto some old idea of how things should be, and Monica’s feeding into it.”
I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. “Then why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell her to leave?”
“I’m trying to handle this carefully,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “My father’s pressuring me to make a decision, and I don’t want to make things worse.”
I stared at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “And what about us, Caleb? Where do we stand in all of this?”
He was silent for a moment, and that silence felt heavier than anything he could’ve said. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know how to balance this right now.”
I nodded slowly, stepping back toward the door. “I get it. You have a lot on your plate.”
“Sam, wait,” Caleb called, stepping after me, but I shook my head, my hand already on the doorknob.
“I should get back to work,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll talk later.”
I didn’t wait for his response. I slipped out of the office, closing the door behind me. My mind raced as I walked back down the hallway, Monica’s smug words ringing in my ears.
*This thing with her… it’s just temporary.*
Was that all I was to him? Something temporary to keep the peace until he figured things out with his father and Monica? My heart ached at the thought, but I pushed it aside. I couldn’t afford to let my emotions get in the way, not when everything felt so fragile.
As I reached my desk, my phone buzzed with a text.
**Dinner with my father tonight. Be ready by 7.**
It was from Caleb.
I stared at the message, my heart sinking. Tonight wasn’t just dinner. It was another test. Another reminder of where I stood in his life—somewhere between real and pretend.
And I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle it.