Harvey replied to the project email at 9:17 a.m.
He didn't plan the time. He didn't rehearse the words. He read the message once, typed a short response, and sent it before he could rethink it.
*I can take this on. Let me know next steps.*
That was all.
He stared at the screen after sending it, waiting for something to happen. Not excitement. Not fear. Just a reaction.
Nothing came.
The office carried on the same way it always did. Someone laughed near the printer. A phone rang and stopped. Chairs moved. Keyboards tapped.
Harvey opened a different file and forced himself to focus.
Ten minutes later, David Collins replied.
*Good. I'll loop you in later today.*
No praise. No details. Just confirmation.
Harvey leaned back slightly and let out a slow breath. The feeling wasn't relief. It was more like acceptance. The decision was done. There was nothing left to weigh.
As he leaned forward again, the familiar shift passed through him. Quiet. Subtle. Like a thought brushing against another.
The words appeared without urgency.
[Decision point detected]
Harvey didn't freeze.
He read the line once and kept his eyes on the screen. The words stayed for a few seconds, then faded away as if nothing had happened.
So that was it.
Not a warning. Not a reward. Just acknowledgment.
The rest of the morning filled up quickly. David added Harvey to a new email thread. A short list of tasks followed. Review timelines. Cross-check assumptions. Prepare a brief summary by the end of the week.
It was manageable.
Jake leaned over the divider. "You're on the project now?"
"Yeah," Harvey said.
Jake nodded. "Nice. About time."
There was no edge in his voice. Just fact.
Around noon, Laura stopped by again. This time she didn't stand. She pulled a chair closer to Harvey's desk and sat down.
"David mentioned you're joining the rollout review," she said. "I'll send you the baseline we're using."
"Okay."
She paused, then added, "Your earlier note about demand smoothing still holds. I adjusted the model."
"Good," Harvey said.
Laura nodded once. "Let me know if anything breaks."
She stood and left without another word.
Harvey watched her walk away, then turned back to his work. The interaction had been clean again. No hesitation. No second-guessing.
During lunch, Emily sat across from him like usual. She poked at her food without much interest.
"You finally replied," she said casually.
"Yeah."
She smiled faintly. "How does it feel?"
Harvey thought about it. About the email. The meeting. The quiet acknowledgment.
"Normal," he said.
Emily watched him for a moment longer than usual. "That's good."
She didn't say anything else. They ate in silence for a while, the kind that didn't need filling but didn't invite closeness either.
In the afternoon, Harvey worked steadily. He didn't rush. He didn't stall. He moved from one task to the next without pausing to imagine where it might lead.
It felt efficient.
It also felt narrow.
When he left the office, the sky was still light. The city moved around him at its usual pace. People walked with purpose. Cars waited at red lights.
Harvey crossed the street and thought about how easily the day had gone once the decision was made. How quiet his mind had been.
At home, his phone buzzed.
A message from his mother.
*How's work today?*
Harvey replied after a moment.
*Busy. It's fine.*
*That's good,* she sent back.
Harvey set the phone down and sat on the couch without turning on the TV. The apartment felt still, like it was waiting for something he couldn't name.
No words appeared.
He didn't know if that was good or bad.
What he did know was this: the decision had been made, and the path had shifted just enough for him to feel it.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the quiet settle.
Whatever was forming, it had already started.