Chapter 2

"Mr. Stanton?" A doctor in a white coat pushed the door open. "Can we speak outside for a moment?"

Jamie followed the doctor out. Through the crack in the door, I could catch fragments of their conversation.

The doctor's voice was concerned. "Miss Kendall is seriously overworked. Her immune system is dangerously weak. She needs two full weeks of rest…"

"Two weeks?" Jamie's voice rose. "She's got a major project coming up—"

"Miss Kendall is at risk of developing myocarditis. It's extremely dangerous…"

My fingers clenched the bedsheet on instinct.

For the past five years, I'd pulled all-nighters for Jamie's company more times than I could count—sometimes working straight through till morning just to make sure he shined in front of clients.

And now? He was talking about me like I was a malfunctioning machine, not his girlfriend.

Jamie came back into the ward after the doctor left, clearly annoyed.

"The doctor says you need two weeks of rest," he said stiffly. "But we've got that new pitch next week. Mr. Sandoval specifically asked for you to lead the creative team."

I looked at his furrowed brows and felt something twist in my chest. I'd nearly died from pneumonia, and this was what he cared about?

I started, "I can try to start earlier—"

"Forget it," Jamie cut me off. "I'll tell Human Resource you'll take a week off. Just try to work from home as much as possible. I'll have Daniella assist you remotely."

He glanced at his watch. "I need to get back to the office for an investor meeting this afternoon. The nurse will handle your discharge papers."

He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss on the forehead, then walked out, his departure leaving the room even colder than before.

*****

That afternoon, I got home and forced myself to clean up.

Jamie's laundry was piled up in the basket. I went through the motions—sorting it, loading the washer like I was on autopilot.

When I picked up the deep blue suit he had worn, something shiny slipped out of the inner pocket. It was a single Cartier earring, identical to the ones Louise was wearing yesterday.

"A thank you gift?" I mumbled, my hand beginning to shake.

Jamie had said the earrings were from Louise's family. So why was one still in his pocket?

The only logical explanation was that Louise had taken them off after wearing them, placing them in his pocket. But why? Why would a girl take off her earrings and hand them to a man?

My brain flashed with scenes—Louise's red-manicured fingers brushing Jamie's tie; her lips near his ear; her post that read: [You're the best!]

My phone buzzed suddenly. It was from the front desk at the office.

"Miss Kendall? Mr. Stanton asked me to remind you that you've got a video meeting tomorrow morning at ten. Please don't miss it," the voice said.

"Got it. Thanks," I replied.

After I hung up, I stared at the earring in my palm. Then I tucked it into the back of my vanity drawer.

Maybe Louise had only forgotten to bring it home with her.

I rubbed my temples, my head still fuzzy from the fever. Jamie was probably right. I had been overthinking lately.

*****

The next morning, even though I felt giddy, I logged into the video call right on time.

On screen, Jamie was in a full suit, explaining the project roadmap. His background was the company conference room.

I noticed he wasn't wearing the tie I gave him, but a new one.

After the meeting, I had to swing by the office to grab some files. The doctor warned me to avoid stress, but the deadlines didn't care about that.

Standing by the elevators with an armful of files, I felt my strength start to drain. My arms were weak, and after just a few minutes upright, my vision blurred.

"You okay?" a deep voice spoke beside me.

I looked up and met a pair of calm, thoughtful eyes.

The man looked like he was in his early thirties, wearing a tailored charcoal gray suit and smelling faintly of cedar.

"I'm fine, thank you." I forced a smile.

His eyes landed on the bandage on my hand. "Fresh out of the hospital and back to work?"

I was a little surprised by how quickly he noticed. I opened my mouth to respond, but the elevator dinged open. I stepped in, then suddenly lost my balance as dizziness hit hard, and the files scattered to the floor.

He dropped down immediately to help, his long fingers deft and precise.

"Sandra Kendall?" he read off one of the files. Then he introduced himself. "I'm Oliver Armstrong, the new marketing director."

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Armstrong." I took the files from him, feeling awkward. "Thanks for helping."

As the elevator rose, he stood a respectful half-step away, not too close, but not distant either.

In the mirrored walls, I caught him glancing at me—subtle, thoughtful looks—but never saying a word.

"It's the 23rd floor," he reminded gently.

I blinked. I'd forgotten to press the button. 23rd floor was the Marketing Department. I worked on 25th floor, in Creative Department.

"I'll take you up." He took the folders from me again. "You look like you might pass out any minute."

I started, "No, really, I—"

"Just a friendly gesture from a new colleague." He pressed the button for the 25th floor without waiting for my reply.

The elevator continued upward. It was quiet, just the soft hum of machinery.

But the silence didn't feel awkward.

When the doors opened, Oliver handed the files back and offered me a business card.

"If you ever need anything, call," he said.

I accepted it.

Back home, I slipped the card into the same vanity drawer where I'd hidden the Cartier earring.

My screen lit up with a new message from Jamie. [Send me the first draft of the pitch tonight. The investors want to review it.]

I took a deep breath and started working.

Inside the drawer, the earring and business card sat side by side—two small objects from two very different worlds, both lingering in my heart.