Date: May 2, 2025 – Friday

  7:30 AM – The First Sign (Client Office – Breakfast Before Meetings)

  I wasn’t going to be sick.

  At least, that’s what I told myself.

  I had woken up queasy, my stomach churning uncomfortably, but I chalked it up to exhaustion. Too many late nights, too much convenience store food, too much thinking. Jet lag was catching up with me, and my body was finally protesting.

  I just had to push through.

  The morning air was crisp as I stepped out of the hotel, walking toward the client office with the team. The sky was overcast, the streets still damp from last night’s rain. Tokyo’s usual hum of activity was starting to pick up, salarymen and students rushing past, the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread spilling from nearby cafés.

  Normally, I would have appreciated it.

  Right now, the thought of food made my stomach turn.

  I forced a steady breath, adjusting the strap of my bag as I kept my pace even. I could handle this. It was just a little nausea.

  By the time we reached the client office, I was already regretting that optimism.

  The conference room was too warm.

  Or maybe I was too warm.

  Either way, my skin felt clammy under my blazer, my stomach twisting as I took my seat. The scent of coffee from the catering table was too strong, the sight of pastries making my throat tighten. I swallowed against the nausea, focusing on my laptop screen, willing the discomfort to settle.

  Across the table, Leo leaned back in his chair, sipping a canned coffee. His gaze flicked to me, sharp and knowing.

  “You look like hell, Spoon Girl.”

  I sighed, already exhausted. “Good morning to you too.”

  Leo smirked, but his gaze lingered, assessing. “Seriously. You okay?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Leo didn’t look convinced, but before he could push, a bottle of electrolyte water slid into my line of sight.

  I blinked.

  Ethan.

  He didn’t say anything. Didn’t look up from his laptop. Just placed the bottle in front of me like it was an afterthought, his fingers tapping against the keyboard as he scrolled through something on his screen.

  I hesitated.

  Leo, ever the observer, arched an eyebrow. “Smooth, Park.”

  Ethan didn’t react.

  Didn’t even acknowledge him.

  I exhaled, fingers curling around the bottle. It was cool against my palm, condensation trailing down the sides.

  I twisted the cap open and took a small sip.

  It helped.

  A little.

  But not enough.

  10:00 AM – The Client Meeting Disaster

  I was going to get through this meeting.

  I had to.

  The Tokyo project was one of TechJolt’s biggest partnerships of the year, and today’s presentation was critical. The client’s senior leadership team was attending, and our performance here could determine whether they extended their contract for another year.

  This was a great opportunity for visibility and I had no room for error.

  Even if my stomach was actively trying to murder me.

  The conference room was filled with quiet conversation as people settled into their seats. Hannah stood near the front, scrolling through her notes. Samantha and Eric were reviewing talking points. Leo was leaning back, chatting with one of the client engineers, effortlessly comfortable.

  Ethan was watching me.

  The quiet weight of his attention, the way his gaze flicked to me whenever I shifted, as if tracking every small sign of discomfort.

  I inhaled slowly, centering myself.

  I was fine.

  I could do this.

  The meeting started, and for the first fifteen minutes, I managed to hold it together. I went through my section, walking the team through the latest performance metrics, answering client questions with smooth, practiced ease.

  Then, around minute sixteen—

  The room tilted.

  Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

  But enough that I had to grip the edge of the table, my fingers pressing against the wood to ground myself.

  I felt the wave of nausea before I could stop it. The heat rising up my spine. The way my pulse stuttered in warning.

  I swallowed hard.

  Kept my expression neutral.

  Kept talking.

  Leo was the first to react, his voice cutting in from across the table. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  It was too loud. Too direct.

  Heads turned.

  I stiffened, forcing a small nod. “I’m fine.”

  Leo frowned. “You don’t look fine.”

  I wanted to strangle him. Couldn’t he tell I just needed to get through this?

  Ethan, on the other hand said nothing.

  Just shifted his laptop slightly, angled it toward the main display, and seamlessly took over.

  “Moving forward,” he said smoothly, clicking through the slides, “we’ll be incorporating additional model optimizations based on your latest feedback.”

  His tone was effortless. Unbothered.

  Like this had always been the plan.

  I blinked.

  And then, just like that, I realized I didn’t have to keep talking.

  Ethan had adjusted the flow of the presentation without hesitation, shifting speaking points away from me, covering sections I was supposed to lead.

  Without a word.

  Without asking.

  Without drawing any attention to it.

  I let out a slow, careful breath.

  12:30 PM – The Breaking Point (Client Office – Private Meeting Room)

  I made it through the rest of the meeting.

  Barely.

  By the time we wrapped up, I felt like I had run a marathon in eighty-degree weather. My skin was too warm, my body aching in a way that was no longer just exhaustion.

  I needed to sit down.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Hannah caught my expression as we stepped out into the hallway. Her brows furrowed slightly. “You okay?”

  I swallowed. “Yeah. Just—” I exhaled. “Can I take a quick break?”

  She nodded without hesitation. “Of course. There’s an empty meeting room down the hall. I’ll have one of the engineers book it for you.”

  Five minutes later, I was sinking into a chair in a dimly lit room, the quiet hum of the AC settling around me.

  I let my forehead drop against the cool surface of the table.

  I just needed five minutes.

  Just five.

  I closed my eyes.

  And before I knew it I was asleep.

  1:45 PM – The Quiet Presence

  I woke up to warmth.

  Not a suffocating kind.

  Not a feverish kind.

  Just—

  Comfort.

  My eyes fluttered open, the soft glow of the overhead light coming into focus. My body was heavy with fatigue, my head still foggy, but the worst of the nausea had passed.

  I exhaled, slowly sitting up.

  And that was when I noticed it.

  Ethan.

  Sitting at the other end of the table.

  Laptop open, fingers moving steadily across the keyboard.

  Close, but not too close.

  The room was silent except for the occasional soft click of his trackpad and keyboard. He hadn’t noticed me wake up yet, his focus entirely on whatever he was working on.

  I shifted slightly—

  And that’s when I felt it.

  The weight on my shoulders.

  I blinked, reaching up—fingers brushing over fabric.

  His jacket.

  Draped over me.

  My breath caught.

  I swallowed, my voice quiet. “You didn’t have to stay.”

  Ethan’s typing slowed.

  Then without looking up, he simply said,

  “I know.”

  1:46 PM – The Difference Between Them

  The room was still.

  Not in a tense way. Not in an awkward way.

  Just quiet.

  Ethan didn’t look up. He kept typing, his expression neutral, his focus unwavering. If I hadn’t just woken up, I might have thought he had been here the whole time, working, as if this was just another meeting room, another late-night project.

  I shifted slightly, the weight of his jacket still warm around my shoulders.

  “Did Hannah send you?” I asked.

  Ethan clicked something on his screen, then finally glanced over. “No.”

  I frowned. “Then why are you—”

  “You didn’t come back from your break.”

  His voice was even. Simple. Like that explained everything.

  I hesitated. “And?”

  Ethan’s gaze held mine, steady. “And I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  He said it so easily. So matter-of-fact. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was just a passing thought.

  Like it was normal.

  Like it was obvious.

  I curled my fingers against the fabric of his jacket, gripping it without thinking.

  Because it wasn’t obvious.

  Not to everyone.

  Not to Leo.

  Leo, who had noticed I wasn’t feeling great.

  Leo, who had made a show of asking if I was okay.

  Leo, who hadn’t realized I had left.

  And Ethan?

  Ethan hadn’t asked.

  He had acted.

  Without hesitation. Without an audience. Without expecting anything in return.

  And that made something deep in my chest ache.

  I swallowed hard, glancing away.

  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I muttered.

  Ethan’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smirk I’d seen all day. “I figured.”

  I exhaled, rubbing a hand over my face. “How long was I out?”

  “An hour.”

  I winced. “Great.”

  Ethan just shrugged. “You needed it.”

  I shook my head. “I have so much work to—”

  “Ada.”

  I stilled.

  Ethan didn’t say my name often.

  When he did, it was always deliberate.

  Like now.

  His voice was steady. A quiet command, not unkind.

  I met his gaze.

  And then, softer—

  “You can take a break.”

  I swallowed.

  Because that was the thing.

  I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone to tell me that.

  I let out a slow breath, nodding.

  And for a few more minutes, I just sat there.

  With Ethan.

  In the quiet.

  Letting myself exist.

  6:30 PM – The Difference Between Showing Up and Being There (Hotel Room – Recovery Phase)

  I wasn’t completely better by the time we got back to the hotel.

  But I was better enough.

  I had made it through the rest of the afternoon without collapsing. I had sat through another meeting, answered client questions, even managed to eat a plain rice ball on the way back without my stomach revolting.

  Progress.

  Now, wrapped in the comfort of my hotel robe, curled up on my bed with a lukewarm cup of tea, I was finally starting to feel human again.

  Until the knock at my door.

  I sighed, setting my tea down. “Who is it?”

  “Your favorite person.”

  I groaned. “Leo, I don’t have the energy for this.”

  “Too bad.”

  I sighed again, but still pulled myself up, shuffling over to unlock the door.

  Leo stood in the hallway, casual as ever, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a paper bag.

  I raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  He smirked. “An offering.”

  I peered inside—hot soup, still steaming slightly.

  Despite myself, my stomach growled.

  Leo’s smirk widened. “Guess that answers whether you’re feeling better.”

  I rolled my eyes, but stepped back, letting him in. “Don’t get cocky.”

  Leo strolled in, setting the bag on the table. “Too late.”

  He pulled up the desk chair, flipping it around before straddling it. “Samantha said you were holed up in here, so I figured I’d make sure you weren’t dead.”

  I huffed a small laugh, lifting the soup container. “Appreciate it.”

  Leo watched as I took a slow sip.

  And then—too casual—

  “So. Park, huh?”

  I paused, spoon halfway to my mouth. “What?”

  Leo leaned forward slightly, resting his arms against the chair back. “You two were gone for a while.”

  I blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Leo smirked. “Don’t play dumb. I noticed when you disappeared. And by the time I thought to check, Park was already in the room with you.”

  I frowned. “That’s—”

  Leo tilted his head. “Interesting.”

  I stared at him.

  Because something about the way he said that, about the way his smirk didn’t quite reach his eyes, made me feel like this wasn’t just teasing.

  Like he was actually trying to gauge something.

  I set the soup down carefully. “Leo.”

  His smirk widened, but it was different now. Slower. Calculating.

  “Just saying,” he drawled. “You two are getting pretty cozy.”

  I exhaled sharply. “Oh my God.”

  Leo grinned. “Am I wrong?”

  I wanted to say yes.

  I should say yes.

  Instead, I just glared at him.

  Leo laughed, shaking his head, but let it drop.

  7:15 PM – The Ones Who Notice

  Leo left after a while, making some joke about not wanting to “catch whatever I had.”

  I had just finished the soup, curling deeper under the blankets, when another knock came at the door.

  I groaned. “Leo, if you forgot something—”

  “It’s not Leo.”

  I froze.

  Then quickly scrambled out of bed, padding over to the door.

  I pulled it open—Samantha.

  Holding a bag of medicine and two more bottles of electrolyte water.

  She gave me a look. “Ethan told me to pass these to you.”

  I blinked.

  “Oh,” I said, voice too quiet.

  Samantha stepped inside, setting the bag on the table. Then she turned, crossing her arms.

  I frowned. “What?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “They’re both trying, you know.”

  I swallowed.

  Because I knew.

  But knowing didn’t make it easier.

  Didn’t make it any less confusing.

  I let out a slow breath, sinking onto the bed. “Yeah.”

  Samantha sighed, shaking her head. “You’re a mess.”

  I buried my face in my hands. “Don’t remind me.”

  Samantha chuckled. “Get some rest, Ada.”

  And with that, she left.

  Leaving me alone.

  With two bottles of electrolyte water.

  One from this morning.

  And one from now.

  Both from Ethan.

  And somehow, that was what I kept staring at.

  9:30 PM – The feeling of nothing

  I should have gone to sleep.

  I wanted to go to sleep.

  But my brain had other plans.

  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, arms folded behind my head, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows against the wall.

  The empty soup container sat on the desk. The bottles of electrolyte water lined up beside it.

  One from this morning. One from tonight.

  Both from Ethan.

  I let out a slow breath, my chest tightening.

  Leo had shown up.

  Leo had teased me, brought food, checked in.

  Ethan had never asked if I was okay.

  Ethan had never made a big deal out of it.

  Ethan had just acted.

  Leo cared. I knew he did.

  But Ethan saw me.

  Saw before I had to say anything.

  Saw before I even realized I needed anything.

  I rolled onto my side, hugging a pillow close.

  My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

  I glanced over, frowning slightly.

  [Leo: You asleep yet, Spoon Girl?]

  I sighed.

  Of course.

  I started to type a response, then hesitated.

  For some reason, I wasn’t in the mood for his usual teasing.

  I didn’t want him to flirt. Didn’t want him to check in just enough to keep me lingering, waiting, questioning.

  For the first time, I wasn’t curious about what he would say next. I wasn’t sure I cared.

  I sighed, deleting the draft.

  Then, without thinking, I opened another message.

  A different name.

  A different person.

  [Me: Thanks for the water.]

  I hovered over the send button.

  Paused.

  I stared at the screen for a long moment.

  Then, slowly, I locked my phone and didn’t send anything at all.

  The Next Morning – The Final Difference (May 3, 2025 – Saturday Morning, Hotel Breakfast)

  I felt better.

  Not completely. But enough.

  The nausea had faded, the fatigue still lingering but manageable.

  By the time I made it down to breakfast, most of the team was already there.

  Leo was at the center of the group, laughing with Eric over something. Samantha was scrolling through her phone. Hannah was sipping her coffee, scanning an agenda.

  And Ethan was sitting at the far end, posture relaxed, fingers curled around a steaming cup of tea.

  His eyes flicked up the second I entered the room, a questioning look in his gaze. I managed a weak smile in response.

  Leo, still laughing, turned slightly, his gaze landing on me, his smirk lazy, confident. “Well, well, if it isn’t the half-dead.”

  I rolled my eyes, but my lips twitched. “Good morning to you too.”

  Leo’s grin widened, but his gaze flicked over me, assessing.

  “You actually look like a functioning human again.”

  “Miraculous, I know.”

  Leo smirked, about to say something else but before he could, a cup of tea slid into my line of sight.

  I blinked.

  Ethan.

  He didn’t say anything.

  Didn’t look at me.

  Just passed me the cup like it was nothing.

  Leo, who had been mid-sentence, paused.

  I didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked between me and Ethan.

  Didn’t miss the way something unreadable flickered across his face.

  I curled my hands around the mug, warmth seeping into my palms.

  Then, before I could stop myself, I met Ethan’s gaze.

  And for the first time, I wondered if I had been looking at the wrong person all along.