By the time Sarai realized the email wasn't a joke, she had already read it three times.
Then a fourth.
Then once more, slower, like the words might rearrange themselves into something that made sense if she gave them enough time.
They didn't.
She sat back in her chair, one hand still resting on her laptop, the glow of the screen reflecting faintly across her face. Around her, the office moved like normal. Phones rang. Someone laughed too loudly near the break area. A printer jammed, beeped, and then beeped again like it was personally offended.
Everything felt… regular.
Which made the message worse.
"Okay," Sarai said under her breath. "So we're just doing this now."
"Sarai."
She didn't look up immediately.
She already knew that tone.
"I swear to God, if this is another one of those fake compliance emails—"
"It's not."
Now she looked.
Nyla stood at the edge of her desk, arms loosely crossed, expression somewhere between concerned and trying not to laugh.
That combination alone was enough to tell Sarai this wasn't normal.
"…why do you look like that?" Sarai asked slowly.
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to say something that's going to ruin my day."
Nyla exhaled through her nose, then gestured toward the screen. "Because I got one too."
Sarai blinked.
"…you're lying."
"I wish I was."
Sarai turned her laptop slightly. "Read that."
"I did."
"Out loud."
"I'm not reading that out loud in the middle of the office."
"Then summarize it," Sarai said, leaning back in her chair. "Because clearly I've lost my ability to interpret reality."
Nyla didn't move for a second. Then she said, very evenly, "It says you've been matched."
Sarai stared at her.
"Matched to what?" she asked. "A job? A team? A random person for a group project I didn't sign up for?"
Nyla's expression didn't change.
Sarai's stomach dropped a little.
"…no."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"Sarai Vale has been assigned—" she stopped, squinting at the screen again. "—a binding partnership under Authority regulation… effective immediately?" She looked back up. "Immediate? As in today immediate?"
Nyla lifted one shoulder. "That's what it says."
"That's insane."
"It's not unheard of."
"It should be," Sarai shot back. "It should be very unheard of. Extremely unheard of. Illegal, even."
"It's not illegal," Nyla said. "It's regulated."
"That doesn't make it better."
"It makes it real."
Sarai pushed her chair back slightly, the wheels rolling against the floor with a soft scrape.
Her mind was trying to catch up.
"This is for people who… what?" she asked. "Like high-clearance positions? Government-linked contracts? People who work in things I definitely did not sign up for?"
Nyla tilted her head. "You don't think your work falls under that?"
Sarai gave her a look. "I coordinate logistics. I fix problems other people create. I send emails, Nyla."
"You do more than that."
"I do not do this," Sarai said, gesturing sharply at the screen.
A notification pinged again.
Both of them looked down.
Partner Profile Available
Sarai froze.
Then she slowly reached forward and clicked it.
The file loaded cleanly.
Minimal design. No unnecessary details. Everything structured in a way that felt intentional.
Name: Virek Aurelian
Classification: High-Risk Operative
Status: Active
Sarai leaned back.
"…oh, absolutely not."
Nyla stepped closer, reading over her shoulder.
"High-risk," Nyla repeated quietly. "That's not—"
"—not something you casually pair with a person who owns multiple color-coded planners," Sarai finished. "That's not something you send in an email like it's a calendar invite."
She scrolled.
There wasn't much.
That somehow made it worse.
"Why is there barely any information?" Sarai asked.
"Because the kind of work that gets labeled 'high-risk' usually doesn't come with a detailed public summary," Nyla said.
"That's not comforting."
"It's not supposed to be."
Sarai stared at the screen again.
Then she laughed.
Once.
Short.
Disbelieving.
"So what happens if I just… don't do this?" she asked.
Nyla didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
"…Nyla."
"They don't assign these without a reason."
"That's not what I asked."
Nyla met her eyes. "You can try to ignore it."
"And?"
"And they won't."
Sarai leaned back fully now, staring up at the ceiling for a second like she might find something useful written there.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Okay. So. Hypothetically."
Nyla folded her arms again. "This is never good."
"Hypothetically," Sarai continued, "I show up, meet this… Virek person, and immediately decide I don't like him."
"Then you don't like him."
"And I leave."
"You can try."
Sarai dropped her head forward, resting her forehead briefly against the back of her hand.
"This is not real," she muttered.
"It is."
"This is not happening to me."
"It is."
"Why is it happening to me?"
Nyla's mouth twitched slightly. "That's probably the part we should be concerned about."
Sarai lifted her head again and looked back at the screen.
At his name.
At the lack of detail.
At the fact that someone, somewhere, had decided this was necessary.
"…high-risk," she repeated quietly.
Then she sat up straighter.
"…okay."
Nyla raised an eyebrow. "Okay?"
"If this is real," Sarai said, closing her laptop halfway, "then I need to know exactly what kind of problem they just attached me to."
Nyla watched her for a second.
Then nodded once.
"That's fair."
Sarai grabbed her bag, sliding her laptop inside with more force than necessary.
Her heart hadn't settled.
Not even a little.
But something else had taken its place.
Not calm.
Not panic.
Something sharper.
"Send me whatever you got too," Sarai said, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "If we're both involved, I want everything."
"I already did."
"Of course you did," Sarai muttered.
They moved toward the exit together.
The office noise faded behind them, replaced by the quieter, more contained sound of the hallway.
For a second, just before the doors opened—
Sarai paused.
"…what if he's weird?" she asked.
Nyla blinked. "That's your concern?"
"Yes," Sarai said immediately. "Because if I'm legally bound to someone and he turns out to be strange, I need to prepare myself emotionally."
Nyla considered that.
Then said, "Based on that profile, I don't think 'weird' is the problem."
Sarai exhaled.
"…that's worse."
The doors opened.
And for the first time since reading the message—
it felt like something had actually started.