Chapter 86 No
The knock comes again, louder this time. Sharpened with impatience. It lands against the apartment door in a way that feels intrusive, like whoever’s on the other side has no intention of being ignored.
Then a voice cuts through the quiet.
“Michael!”
It’s harsh and demanding. Not the voice of someone dropping by for coffee. I frown slightly, looking up at him.
“Who—”
But Michael isn’t looking at me anymore. His gaze is fixed toward the hallway, toward where the sound came from. And something in his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but unmistakable. The softness that had settled over his face only seconds ago disappears, replaced by something harder to read. Something closed off. His jaw tightens slightly, and his eyes narrow just a fraction, like a dozen different thoughts have collided all at once.
There’s recognition there. And something else. Something I can’t quite name. Another knock pounds against the door.
I push myself up onto my elbows, unease creeping slowly into my chest.
“Is everything okay?”
He finally looks back at me. The expression is gone just as quickly as it appeared, tucked away somewhere behind his usual calm.
“Stay here,” he says quietly.
Before I can respond, he swings his legs off the bed and stands. I sit up slowly, “Michael,”
“I’ll be back,” he says, already moving toward the door. Then he pauses briefly in the doorway and looks back again. “Just.... wait here.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes me stop pushing, I nod faintly. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling once under his breath. Another knock hits the door just as he disappears. I watch him go, the quiet of the room suddenly feeling heavier than it did a minute ago.
For a moment, I just sit there, listening. The apartment feels too quiet now, like the walls themselves are holding their breath. I hear the faint click of the front door unlocking, then opening. Voices follow, muffled. I can’t make out the words yet, just the low rise and fall of conversation. Michael’s voice is there, quieter than usual, steady but controlled.
The other voice is unfamiliar. Older. And unmistakably angry.
I slowly shift, pushing the blankets aside until my feet touch the floor. The wood is cool beneath them as I move to the edge of the bed, sitting forward slightly. My eyes stay fixed on the bedroom door like that might somehow sharpen the sound. The voices continue, rising and falling, distorted by distance and walls. Then, suddenly, the unfamiliar voice cuts through clearer.
Louder.
“What the hell’s gotten into you?!”
I blink. My breath catches without warning, my heart kicking a little harder in my chest. For a moment I just sit there, frozen, listening. Then I stand. The movement feels automatic, my body deciding before my brain fully catches up. I cross the room slowly and stop in front of the door.
If I step out carefully, I won’t be visible from the living room.
My hand reaches for the knob....and then stops. Because I’m pretty sure I know who that voice belongs to. I’ve watched Michael silence those calls for days now. Watched the name flash across his screen more than once before he turned the phone face down and pretended not to notice.
His father.
My jaw tightens slightly. I’m not thrilled about the way he just spoke to Michael.
And I’m even less thrilled about the fact that I can’t hear Michael answering him.
Something sharp and protective rises in my chest then, sudden and instinctive. A deep, irrational need to step out there. To stand beside Michael. To make it very clear that no one gets to talk to him like that.
Every instinct in me wants to open the door. But another part of me pushes back immediately. Because I know Michael wouldn’t like it.
If the roles were reversed, I definitely wouldn’t want him listening in on something private. And I’m not the kind of person who makes a habit out of invading other people’s personal conflicts.
Privacy matters.
Boundaries matter.
Even now, even with my chest tight and my nerves humming, that part of my brain is still there reminding me of that. But this isn’t just someone else. It’s the man I’m in love with. I close my eyes for a moment, pressing my thumb lightly against the cool metal of the knob. My heart is beating harder than it should be for something as small as this.
Then I exhale.
And very slowly, very carefully, I turn the knob and open the thick door just a fraction. The difference is immediate. The hallway carries the sound straight toward me now, clear and sharp. And with it comes the full force of his father's voice. The anger in it is no longer muffled or distant. It’s raw and unrestrained, echoing faintly through the apartment.
“....I didn’t come all the way here to argue about this,” he's saying. “Go get dressed and meet me at the office in an hour.”
My stomach tightens.
“There’s an entire department waiting on you,” he continues, his tone cutting like glass. “You don’t get to vanish for days because you’ve decided you’re tired. There’s too much work sitting on your desk for you to simply disappear whenever the mood strikes.”
I hear Michael’s voice then.
Calm....Almost eerily calm.
“But I resigned.”
Silence falls for a second, then his dad laughs once. Not amused but sharp.
“Resigned?” he repeats, the word dripping with disbelief. “You don’t resign from something you built. You certainly don’t resign from something that carries your whole reputation.”
His voice drops lower, harsher.
“I’m not entertaining this little episode, Michael. You will come into the office, you will resume your responsibilities, and we’ll pretend this momentary lapse in judgment never happened.”
Michael doesn’t answer right away. The silence stretches. But his father keeps going. “You have an entire roster of writers who have spent years building their careers under your leadership,” he snaps. “Do you think they’ll simply transfer their loyalty to someone else overnight? Do you imagine the clients who trust you with their manuscripts will happily hand their work to a stranger?”
Another beat.
“I don’t know what’s possessed you lately,” he says, voice colder now. “But whatever this little crisis is, you need to get over it quickly. You’ve already cost this company more disruption than it should have had to tolerate.”
The words land like blows, each one intentional. Each one sharper than the last.
I’m not a violent person.
I’m not even an angry one, really.
It takes a lot to genuinely upset me. I’ve always been better at stepping back, breathing through things, finding the calmer way around a problem. But standing here, listening to that man talk to Michael like that....
Something sharp and unfamiliar spikes inside my chest.
It’s not irritation, it’s not even frustration. It’s rage. Hot and sudden and completely foreign to me. My hand moves before I fully think it through, pushing the bedroom door open a little wider. The hallway stretches ahead, quiet except for the faint echo of movement.
I hear footsteps. Heavy and measured. Like his father intends to say everything he came to say and simply walk away afterward. It angers me even more.
Then Michael speaks.
One word....
“No.”
The footsteps stop. The silence that follows is immediate and thick, like the entire apartment has gone still. A moment later, his father's voice comes again, edged with disbelief.
“What did you just say?”
There’s a brief pause. And then Michael answers, just as calm as before.
“I said no.”