The days following our shared win passed in a blur of meetings, presentations, and endless revisions. The project had gained traction, and while the team was energized by the progress, the relentless pace was starting to wear me down. Still, the tension between Mark and me had softened slightly—enough to allow a semblance of normalcy in our interactions.
Edward, ever the observant one, had taken to teasing us about how well we were working together, his comments laden with a subtle, almost paternal pride. "You two are finally starting to find your rhythm," he said one morning, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
Mark had grunted in response, his usual way of deflecting attention, while I had forced a polite laugh. But deep down, Edward's words stuck with me. Were we finding our rhythm, or was it just another layer of this complicated charade we were navigating?
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