By the Book

Chapter Forty-Four: Regrets and Admissions

The office was quiet that morning, the kind of quiet that felt like it should belong to the dead of night rather than the start of a new workday. Even Chloe, usually a bundle of energy, had barely said a word as she handed me my morning coffee.

I hadn't touched it. The bitter smell turned my stomach, though the warmth of the cup had been a brief comfort in my chilled hands. Now it sat forgotten on my desk, the surface long cooled, as I stared blankly at the open document on my computer.

The knock on my office door was soft but insistent, cutting through the stillness. I glanced up, startled, my heart giving a painful lurch when I saw him.

Miles.

He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his gaze immediately landing on me. For a moment, he didn't speak. He just stood there, his expression unreadable as he took me in.

"Kara," he said finally, his voice low and careful. "You look..." He trailed off, his words catching like a thread snagged on something sharp.

I bristled, straightening in my chair as if the change in posture could hide the truth he'd already seen. "I look fine," I said, my tone clipped.

But I didn't. I knew it, and so did he.

His eyes lingered, tracing over the shadows under mine, the hollows of my cheeks, the way my blazer hung too loosely on my frame. I could see the realization settle over him like a storm cloud, his jaw tightening as he tried to mask his reaction.

"When's the last time you ate something?" he asked quietly, his tone gentle but unwavering.

"That's not your concern," I replied, turning my attention back to my screen. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, though the words on the page blurred into nothingness.

"Kara," he said again, his voice firmer now. He took a step closer, his presence filling the space like a weight I couldn't ignore. "You're not fine. You're—"

"I don't need a lecture, Miles," I cut him off, my voice sharper than I intended. I pressed my hands flat against my desk, the cool surface grounding me. "I'm here for the meeting. That's it."

He stopped, his expression flickering with something between frustration and hurt. "I'm not trying to lecture you," he said softly. "I'm trying to help."

"Well, I don't need help," I snapped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. "I don't need anything. I'm handling it."

He didn't move, didn't look away, and the weight of his gaze was almost unbearable. "No, you're not," he said finally, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. "And you don't have to pretend with me."

The words hit me like a blow, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles white, my chest tight with the effort of keeping it all in.

"If you're not here for the meeting, you can leave," I said, forcing my voice into a semblance of steadiness. I didn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the concern etched across his face. "I'll meet you and Dr. Harlan in the conference room in ten minutes."

Miles stayed where he was, his hands braced on the back of the chair he'd been about to sit in. His fingers flexed, the leather creaking under his grip. He wasn't leaving, not yet.

"Kara," he said, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "I need to say this."

I pressed my lips into a thin line, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Miles," I began, warning in my tone.

"No," he interrupted, his voice firm. "Just—let me finish."

I exhaled sharply, leaning back in my chair as I crossed my arms. I couldn't stop the exhaustion from bleeding into my voice. "Fine. Say what you need to say."