Leah's morning started like any other, with the city's early sunlight slanting across the glass walls of Helmsworth Tower. But today, the office felt different—heavier, almost anticipatory. Conversations hushed as she passed, eyes darting toward her like they were measuring her every step.
She shook it off, focusing on the monitor, on formulas and projections, but the tension clung. Something about yesterday had shifted things. The whispers, once subtle, now carried the weight of speculation.
From the corner of the floor, she noticed Adrian. He was leaning against the glass wall of the boardroom, reviewing documents with that same meticulous attention to detail. But even through the reflection, she could see his eyes flick toward her occasionally, gray, precise, unreadable.
Her chest fluttered briefly, a small spark of awareness she tried to ignore. She returned to her work, fingers clattering against the keyboard, heart not entirely in rhythm with her typing.
By mid-morning, she felt the first ripple. A colleague approached her desk, careful not to make it obvious.
"Leah… about yesterday," the voice lowered. "Some of us weren't sure… I mean, Adrian's reaction—people are talking."
Leah's brow furrowed. "Talking about what?" she asked calmly, though her stomach twisted.
"Nothing specific," the colleague said quickly. "Just… you know… the way he defended you. People are noticing."
Defended her. The words lingered, as light and charged as a current under the surface. Leah forced a smile, nodding, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. "I appreciate the heads-up."
The office felt smaller suddenly, more confining, every reflective surface—windows, glass partitions, even polished desks—highlighting the scrutiny. She moved to the boardroom, needing a space to think.
Inside, the sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling glass, outlining the conference table in sharp edges of gold. Leah leaned against the glass, scanning the spreadsheets she had just prepared, feeling the invisible weight of observation pressing in from all sides.
Adrian appeared in the doorway, his presence cutting through the tension without a word.
"You're here early," she said, keeping her voice steady.
"Needed to review the Henderson file before the morning briefing," he replied, eyes scanning the documents on the table. His glance lingered on hers just long enough for her pulse to quicken—a silent acknowledgment, a fleeting connection that didn't require words.
She adjusted her papers, careful not to meet his gaze fully, though she could feel it resting on her shoulders, tracing the line of her movements.
"You handled yourself well yesterday," he said finally, voice low, measured. "Even with… attention."
Leah's fingers stilled. "Attention?" she repeated, though she knew exactly what he meant.
"The kind that watches," he said, stepping closer. The soft echo of his shoes against the floor made her aware of the space between them. "People read more into actions than words. They misread hesitation as uncertainty, confidence as arrogance."
She exhaled, leaning slightly on the table. "So what am I supposed to do? Walk on glass all day?"
He tilted his head, the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth hinting at amusement. "Not glass," he corrected softly. "Through it. Observed, aware, but never cracked. That's the skill."
Their eyes met for a heartbeat—gray and hazel colliding through the sunlight spilling between them. A flicker of connection, brief, charged, then reality reclaimed the space as he stepped back.
"Keep your footing," he said, voice returning to neutral. "The meeting is in thirty."
She nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet shiver that ran through her at the proximity, at the unspoken reassurance his presence provided.
Outside the glass walls, the office buzzed on. Whispers still trailed her, glances still measured. But behind the boardroom glass, she felt anchored—not entirely, not safely, but enough to move forward.
And in that moment, Leah realized that surviving scrutiny wasn't about perfection. It was about subtle strength, and sometimes, fleeting moments of recognition from someone who saw more than the office rumors ever would.