Fading Lines | (Line Series, Book 1) ✔️

chapter twenty-seven: life goes on

—Life Goes On

➳ Brooklyn Brody

Three months have passed since I'd last felt Dylan's arms around me, three months since I'd walked out of his office and left my heart on the floor behind me. I'd convinced myself that I was doing the right thing, that putting distance between us was what I needed to regain my balance. But if anything, it only seemed to deepen the ache.

I threw myself into my work, forcing myself to stay busy enough to forget. It wasn't easy—not when I was his assistant. Every meeting, every project update, every email brought him back to the center of my mind. He was woven into every corner of my day; I couldn't seem to escape the reminders of him. He'd still glance my way in meetings, his expression unreadable. Sometimes I'd catch his gaze and quickly look away, as if even that was too much to handle. We were polite, professional—a dynamic that felt so hollow now, given everything we'd shared.

Today, I sat across the room from him in a meeting with the team of managers. The presentation was on the final stage of a project I helped Dylan with, something I'd buried myself in over the past few months to keep my mind off him. As I stared at the slides on my laptop screen, I tried to listen to the manager giving the presentation, but my mind kept drifting. I could feel Dylan's presence, even though he was seated across the table. It was as if an invisible string kept tugging my attention toward him. He seemed absorbed in the meeting, his brow furrowed as he reviewed the numbers on the slides, and yet, every few minutes, his gaze would flicker over to me. It was quick, subtle—a glance that no one else would notice. But I felt it, like the warm press of his hand on my shoulder.

My phone buzzed in my lap, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced down to see a reminder of my to-do list: finalize the campaign report, schedule Daria's last feedback session, organize the files for the end-of-project handoff. A shiver ran through me. This project with Daria had been my lifeline, even though it meant working directly under Daria. She never asked about Dylan or gave any indication of what had happened between us, and for that, I was grateful. Still, every time her name showed up in my inbox or I received an update on the project, there was this inevitable reminder of the role she'd once played in Dylan's life.

As the meeting wound down, the managers dispersed, and I stayed behind, gathering my notes. Dylan hadn't left yet, either. He lingered, talking to a few team members near the door, his voice low and steady. My eyes betrayed me, watching him as he moved, the way he laughed quietly at something one of them said, the easy smile that came to his face. It was a smile I hadn't seen in months—a smile I missed desperately.

I forced myself to look away and slipped my laptop into my bag, reminding myself that I had work to finish. But the more I tried to ignore the memories, the more they seemed to crowd in on me. I could almost feel his hand slipping around my waist, the way he'd tuck me into his side like I belonged there.

When the last few people left the room, I was alone with him. The air grew heavy, like the silence itself was saying all the things I couldn't. I caught him watching me, his eyes softened in that way I knew so well, a mixture of longing and hesitation.

"Brooklyn." His voice was gentle, like he was testing the weight of my name.

I turned, forcing a small smile. "Dylan."

He stepped closer, but still kept enough distance to respect the boundaries we'd both reluctantly drawn. There was a moment, a long, quiet one, where neither of us spoke. And then he nodded, like he'd made peace with something I hadn't yet grasped. "I just wanted to say I'm proud of the work you've done. Your work here, Daria's project, everything—we both wouldn't have gotten here without you."