Fearing we're under scrutiny, Elena and I decide to cool our contact. No more late-night texts, no clandestine meets. The hush between us is agonizing. I bury myself in data and proposals, ignoring the gnawing emptiness.
But the distance only twists the knot in my chest tighter. I realize I crave her presence, the adrenaline spike of each stolen moment. At night, I stare at the ceiling, remembering the near-kiss in that shabby motel, haunted by what could have been.
My coworker remarks on my exhaustion. Mr. Vasquez notices my distraction, snapping at me to focus. I push down the swirl of guilt, reminding myself I'm doing this to save both our skins.
Yet every day, the office feels colder. I wonder if Elena regrets everything. Or maybe she's relieved? The uncertainty robs me of sleep.