Love Expectations (Season 1 of Nata and Phillip's Romance) ✔️

17. 'Broken on the inside'

Natalia

Running the third circle around MB Tech campus is when I get the second wind. The burn in my lungs dulls and I push my thigh muscles past the lingering fatigue of my daily runs. If I ever get to my new neighborhood before nighttime, I'd figure out a running route there. For now, coming to work earlier and getting my run in, has grounded me enough that when Samson and I cross paths in the hallway, I can walk by him and pretend I don't notice he looks worse than I do.

I stroll through the still empty building, grab my black stretchy pants that supposedly look like slacks but feel like yoga leggings, and a black shirt that could also be a workout t-shirt if not for some lace trim on the puff sleeves. My attempt at appearing more boss-like. I'm managing a lab now. Looking the part is a part of the game.

My favorite shower in the building is on the first floor. I stand in the enclosure surrounded by the iridescent teal tile that makes the space feel a little like a place of rest and not part of the wash-and-go routine I've been using it for. I lather for the second time, massage my aching body, and return under the extra-hot stream. The heavy wet mass of my hair lays heavy down my back like the embodiment of the weight that settled over me since I broke up with Samson.

Today I'm signing my life away.

No. Not away, that sounds like I'm getting a prison sentence. But for the next six months, I'm no longer ambling from work to the duplex, wondering if work would be enough purpose for now. If that's all I'm supposed to enjoy in life. Not everyone has kids, and they live happy and fulfilled lives. I could too, but not before I exhausted every option first. I can't give up before I even start trying.

I wrap my hair in one of the burrito towels I brought from my new home. My temples ache from the eye strain over the last week. Good thing I've written as well as read mountains of scientific paperwork and contracts before this deal with Phillip. The pages upon pages Phillip's lawyer has been sending my way are a familiar pattern. Similar to the ones we draw up trying to anticipate all the things I'd need for a study before it begins. Smart, necessary, but sure to be incomplete.

Minimal makeup is the best I can do on my own. I take the red lipstick Kate insisted is now mine and put it back into my bag, sticking with my standard mint-flavored clear Sugar lip gloss. Flats and a light gray jacket complete my ensemble. Without a hairdryer, I opt for a braid. I could be a generic office worker of any kind. Nothing screams 'scientist'. Nothing screams 'broken on the inside'. The clothes hold the power of making me appear like I know what I'm doing, no matter how many questions are knocking on the locked doors in my chest.

First on today's checklist are the animals for the current in vivo. Check. Make sure the interns' questions are answered. Check. Verify that the gamma counter is still working after I finished fixing it yesterday. Check. Ignore Samson's attempts at trying to start a conversation. Check. Answer the emails. The alarm on my phone alerts me that it's time to leave for my meeting with Phillip. The square for the check mark remains blank. I'll finish them at night.

I down the leftover water from my tumbler, undo the hair-tie, and run my fingers through the slightly damp, messy waves. My muscles hum from my earlier run, but the calm that I created in the morning lifts, exposing my doubts and my desperation. The scratching behind my breastbone sends threads of anxious prickles down my arms. I fold them on my desk and rest my forehead on my forearms. I kill the shakiness in my hands by squeezing them into tight fists. The fear doesn't get to win. It's been so long since I've felt my heart want anything so much. I'm getting what I want. No matter what.

The drive to the lawyers' offices takes less than half an hour, and I sit in my car for ten before it doesn't seem like I'm too early or too eager.

Instead of an old-school wood paneling and dark hallways I imagined the offices would contain when I read the documents, the law firm is all chrome and glass. Ready for a TV show to be filmed. Dressing up might have been my best idea of the day, because even in my most corporate-office attire I'm still under-dressed. Even the receptionist could be on the cover of some glossy magazine. I follow her along one of the corridors with offices revealing modern stand up desks and abstract paintings full of primary colors.