Stacy slid into the familiar corner booth at their favorite restaurant, the late afternoon sun painting golden streaks across the polished glass. Outside, the city hummed with life, but here it felt like a pause—soft jazz in the background, wine glasses catching the light just right.
Lesley, her best friend was already there, swirling a deep burgundy vintage in her glass. Her face lit up the moment she spotted Stacy.
"Finally," Lesley grinned. "I was beginning to think Holloway & Brand had you locked in a filing cabinet."
Stacy exhaled, loosening her blazer with a practiced motion. "They might as well have. That client's ruthless. One wrong move and we're toast."
Lesley leaned closer, intrigued. "And Zoe? The coffee rebel? You made her project lead, right? How's she holding up?"
A shadow flickered across Stacy's face. "It's… complicated. She's brilliant, no doubt—but she's fire. Pushes back on every direction. Last week, I had to lay it out: no completed reports by Friday, and not just her—the whole team would be out the door."
Lesley raised an eyebrow.
"She stayed late. Worked through the night," Stacy continued, swirling her drink in slow, thoughtful circles. "I expected her to crack under the pressure. But she didn't. And when I finally approved the reports… she cheered like a kid who'd just snagged the last cookie. So unfiltered, so genuine—I almost laughed right there."
"Almost?" Lesley teased, her eyes twinkling.
"Yeah," Stacy admitted, glancing away.
"She tries to slip in jokes when we're buried in the war room. I think she thinks I'm allergic to humor. Yesterday, she even suggested calling the brand 'edgy but tired.' I didn't react, of course—so she just rolled her eyes and went straight back to typing."
"But you did find it funny?" Lesley asked knowingly.
"I did," Stacy nodded, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I laughed to myself a few seconds later, but she didn't see it."
Lesley tilted her head. "So what's really going on?"
Stacy exhaled, her gaze drifting toward the window as the memory replayed with quiet weight. "Zoe's not just another designer," she murmured. "That night—after the blowout with my parents—I wasn't exactly in the best headspace. I left the house late, furious, driving way too fast. It was pouring, and I didn't notice anyone on the sidewalk… until I hit a deep puddle."
Lesley raised a brow, sensing something more.
"She was right there," Stacy continued, her voice tinged with regret. "Completely caught in the splash zone. My tires sliced through the water, and it drenched her from head to toe. I didn't even recognize her at first—just saw this soaked figure frozen on the curb. It wasn't until I stopped that I realized it was Zoe."
The server set their plates on the table with a quiet clink, the aroma of fresh food rising between them.
"Oh geez! So what happened next?" Lesley asked, leaning forward, eyes bright with curiosity. She picked up her fork but didn't start eating, too caught up in the story.
Stacy shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips as she swirled her wine. "You'll love this part…"
Her fingers tightened slightly around the glass, a faint warmth rising in her chest as she remembered. "I offered her a ride home. She hesitated for a second, glancing at me like she wasn't sure what to make of the offer. And then… she got in, still soaked, quiet and composed in that stubborn, determined way of hers."
She let out a soft breath, swirling the wine as if it could absorb her thoughts. "We didn't really talk much on the way—just sat there quietly while the storm raged outside. But it was strange…. It felt like everything that didn't get said was hanging in the air."
"What's next?" Lesley asked excitedly.
"When we got to her building, she told me to wait in the car. I was bracing myself for something awkward—maybe a lecture, maybe silence—but a minute later, she came back with two cups of ice cream. She handed me one like it was nothing, like kindness was effortless for her. No questions, no drama, just… this quiet thoughtfulness that caught me off guard."
Stacy lifted her glass and took a slow sip of wine, letting the warmth settle before continuing. "We sat there eating in silence, music playing in the background, and I… I don't know, I just couldn't stop noticing her. The way she moved, the way she smiled without even realizing it, the way she somehow made everything feel a little less heavy."
She let out a quiet laugh, more to herself than anyone else. "And honestly? That stupid ice cream—of all things—made everything feel a little lighter. A little easier to breathe. I didn't expect that from her… but I guess that's just Zoe."
Lesley leaned back, smiling. "Sounds like someone's cracking through the armor."
She felt a small flicker at the words, but quickly tamped it down. This wasn't the time to indulge in… whatever this was.
"Don't get used to it," Stacy warned, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
"Maybe she's the kind of challenge you need," Lesley said gently.
Stacy scoffed. "Now's not the time though. This project could make or break my year."
"When was the last time you went on a date? The Jurassic era?" teased Lesley.
"It's not that I don't want to," Stacy sighed. "I just can't afford distractions right now. Especially not ones that wear eyeliner and challenge my leadership."
Her mind briefly lingered on Zoe's smile, the way she handled herself, the way she'd made the ice cream moment feel… lighter. Not now, Stacy. Focus.
Lesley reached across the table. "I get it. But you also need joy—whatever shape it takes. Even if it's just ice cream in a car. Or dancing like maniacs at Eclipse next weekend."
"I'm not partying until this beast of a project is put to bed."
Lesley grinned. "Then make it a masterpiece. Because once it's done? We're partying until dawn—and I'm dragging you to the VIP booth if I have to bribe the DJ."
Stacy chuckled, finally reaching for the menu. "Alright, alright. But only if the DJ agrees to play Beyoncé and nothing but Beyoncé."
Lesley raised her glass. "Deal."
Outside, the sun dipped below the skyline. Inside, laughter wrapped around the booth like warmth.
And for the first time in weeks, Stacy felt something she hadn't felt in a long time—possibility.
**THE QUITE REVEAL**
The office was quiet, its usual buzz replaced by the low hum of the city beyond the glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed flickering streetlights and distant traffic, while inside, only the soft click of Stacy's laptop keys echoed. Her expression, typically unreadable, bore the faintest trace of fatigue—something softer, though fleeting.
Zoe lingered at the doorway, hesitant. The light from the hallway spilled across her figure, one hand clutching two mugs of coffee.
"Uh... figured you could use caffeine more than silence," she said awkwardly, stepping in.
Stacy looked up, eyes narrowing in a way that was more curiosity than annoyance. "It's late."
"Exactly," Zoe quipped, holding out a mug. "Burnout prevention. Or at least an illusion of it."
Stacy hesitated, then reached for it. "Thanks," she said, but her voice held that familiar clipped edge.
Zoe didn't leave.
She stood, shifting her weight. "Can I ask something without getting fired?"
Stacy glanced at her coolly, one brow lifted. "You've already risked it by interrupting. Might as well keep going."
Zoe chuckled nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Right. Okay. Just—why are you always like this?"
Stacy's fingers paused over her keyboard. "Like what."
"You know…" Zoe gestured vaguely. "Fortress. Steel gaze. Emotionally bulletproof. Everyone tiptoes around you like you might explode if someone misuses a semicolon."
Stacy leaned back in her chair. "I didn't realize clarity and standards were considered character flaws."
"I didn't mean it like that," Zoe said quickly. "You're obviously brilliant. But sometimes it feels like you're... holding the whole world at arm's length."
A long silence passed.
Then Stacy spoke, voice flat. "Is this an attempt to psychoanalyze me over coffee?"
"No," Zoe said, then hesitated. "Well—maybe a little. Look, when you drenched me in rain the other night and offered me a ride, I thought, okay, maybe there's something human under all that boss energy."
Stacy's mouth twitched slightly, as though suppressing a sigh—or a smile.
"But the silence in the car," Zoe continued, "it was different. Not cold, just... full. And when you didn't talk, I didn't feel dismissed. I just wondered if maybe, sometimes, you get tired of holding everything in."
Stacy's eyes stayed on the screen, though the glow from the monitor couldn't mask the subtle tightening around her jaw.
"You don't know me," she said finally, evenly.
"I don't," Zoe agreed. "But I see you."
Stacy turned slowly, her gaze sharp again. "This conversation is bordering on inappropriate for a work setting."
Zoe nodded, swallowing back the rest of what she wanted to say. "Understood. I just—never mind."
She began to retreat toward the doorway, but paused.
"For what it's worth," she said gently, "you don't have to talk for people to listen."
And then she was gone.
Stacy stared at the mug in her hand. Steam curled upward, dissolving into the quiet. She didn't move for a long time—just sat there, alone in the after-hours silence, the city lights flickering beyond the glass.
Zoe stepped into the lobby. She pulled her coat tighter around her and reached into her pocket to check her phone.
A message notification lit up the screen.
It was from Stacy.
"Don't be late to the summit tomorrow."
Zoe stared at the text, a small, surprised smile tugging at her lips. Despite Stacy's earlier brush-off, the message held a kind of quiet urgency—a sign that maybe Stacy wasn't as closed off as she seemed.
Zoe tucked her phone away and glanced back up at the elevator doors sliding shut. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.