"It's best if you sit down for this, boss..." Lela said, her voice unusually firm, her expression more serious than I'd ever seen it.
Something in my chest tightened immediately.
"Alright..." I replied, keeping my tone level as I walked over to my chair and sat down. The stiffness in my body was obvious—I could feel it in the way my shoulders refused to relax, in the way my hands settled a little too carefully in my lap.
Lela didn't speak right away. She stood there for a moment, watching me like she was measuring how much I could handle before finally continuing.
"So... we've maintained a close eye on... her," she began, her words slow and deliberate. "And it turns out she has quite a bit planned..."
I felt my jaw tighten slightly, my fingers curling together as I held her gaze.
"Go on," I said, my voice quieter now, but sharper.
"Well... she's planning on coming to Mexico... we don't know much beyond that," Lela said carefully. "We tried infiltrating her apartment, but it was too risky."
I went quiet.
My gaze drifted toward the office door, unfocused, as my mind turned over everything she'd just said. The room felt smaller somehow, like the walls had inched closer without me noticing.
My fingers curled slightly against my armrest, and I caught myself biting down on my lip as I thought.
Coming here.
That wasn't random. That wasn't harmless.
A slow breath filled my lungs, then left just as steadily as I straightened slightly in my chair.
"I want her gone," I said at last, my voice calm—too calm. My eyes slipped shut for a brief moment before opening again, sharper now. "I can't have someone who threatens my life with Miguel... still walking around like nothing's going to happen."
The words hung in the air, heavy.
Lela didn't respond right away, but I could feel her attention lock in even tighter, waiting.
My gaze shifted back to her, unwavering.
"Handle it," I added, quieter this time—but far more final.
"Understood, boss..." Lela said, giving a short nod as she turned toward the door, ready to carry it out without hesitation.
"Wait," I called, stopping her mid-step.
She paused immediately, glancing back over her shoulder.
I hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing, my voice quieter but more deliberate. "I want you to handle it personally. I trust you... you're the best at these kinds of things."
For a split second, something shifted in her—subtle, almost unnoticeable. A small sound left her, like a breath she hadn't meant to let out.
"I'm on it," she said, turning fully back toward me now, her tone steady again, locked in. "I won't let you down."
I held her gaze for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod. The door closed behind her not long after, leaving the office in a heavy silence that didn't fade when she left.
"After this you won't have to work ever again." I whispered to myself.
I slowly spun my chair around, the soft creak of it the only sound in the room as I turned to face the window.
The view hadn't changed—it never did. The same stretch of land, the same distant lights flickering far off in the darkness, the same quiet stillness that wrapped around everything like a blanket.
But somehow, it always worked.
My shoulders eased just a little as I stared out, letting my eyes settle on something far away instead of everything crowding my mind. The tension didn't disappear, but it loosened enough for me to breathe properly again.
It made me think of simpler things—quieter moments, the kind that didn't come with decisions that carried weight. Miguel's voice, the way he laughed over something small. The mornings that felt normal. Safe.
For a moment, I let myself sit in that.
Just the view. Just the silence. Just the feeling that, somehow, everything could still turn out okay if I held it together long enough.
Then it hit me, and I let out a short laugh, shaking my head.
"Why the fuck were we speaking in English?" I said under my breath, more amused than anything as I leaned back in my chair.
The question lingered for a second longer than expected, like I'd only just noticed how natural it had been. Not forced. Not intentional. Just... how it came out.
I exhaled slowly, eyes still on the window, the distant lights steady and unchanged.
"Christ..." I murmured, quieter now, the humor fading into something more reflective. "Ever since Miguel happened... I've lost complete touch of how I talk."
It wasn't regretful. Not even negative, really. Just an observation—like noticing a piece of yourself had shifted without you realizing when it happened.
I rolled my shoulders slightly, letting the thought settle instead of fighting it.
Strange how things changed like that. Small adjustments over time, until one day you looked back and realized you weren't exactly the same person who started.
A knock came at the office door, sharp against the quiet.
"Come in," I said automatically, still half-leaning back in my chair, my thoughts not fully snapped back into the room yet.
The door opened.
Miguel stepped in.
Something in my chest softened instantly, like it always did when he appeared without warning. The tension I'd been holding onto the past minutes didn't disappear completely, but it shifted—became quieter, less sharp.
"Hi, sweetheart," I said with a small, genuine smile, straightening a little in my seat.
"Hi..." he replied, a bit soft, a bit careful, like he wasn't sure if he was interrupting something. In his hands, he was holding something wrapped neatly in a paper towel.
My eyes dropped to it immediately.
"I brought you some cookies I made earlier..." he said, lifting them slightly like an offering. "Thought you might like a treat after... making business."
There was something so simple about the way he said it. So him.
I felt the corner of my mouth lift more naturally this time, the rest of the room fading a little into the background as I looked at him properly.
God, I loved him.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just constantly, in the quiet way that never really turned off.
"I appreciate that..." I said as he handed them over. The cookies were still warm—soft at the edges, the chocolate slightly melted, like he'd just finished them not long ago. That alone made something in my chest loosen a little more.
They were good this morning... but tasting them again, right here, felt even better. Familiar. Comforting in a way I didn't realize I needed.
I took a bite, chewing slowly as I leaned back in my chair, letting the sweetness settle.
Miguel watched me for a moment before speaking. "So... what happened?"
I paused just long enough to swallow, keeping my expression easy.
"Nothing serious," I said, waving it off lightly as I took another bite. "Just taking care of some pests."
My tone was calm—casual, almost dismissive—like it was nothing worth worrying about. I smiled faintly as I said it, as if to make it sound even smaller than it was.
Miguel nodded, accepting it without pressing further.
I let the silence return comfortably, the warmth of the cookies and his presence making the whole thing feel lighter than it had any right to.
"Would you like some water?" Miguel asked softly as we both got up and reached the hallway.
I shook my head gently. "No... I'm okay."
Then I exhaled, the weight of the day finally catching up to me in a quiet, inevitable way. "I just... want to go to sleep."
Miguel gave a small, understanding smile—no questions, no pushback, just that steady warmth he always seemed to carry.
"Okay," he said simply.
We moved together toward the bedroom, the house quiet as always, everything slowing down as we left the office behind.
The rest of the world felt distant again, like it always did at this hour.
Once inside, neither of us said much. We didn't need to.
We tumbled into bed with that familiar ease—clothes shifting, blankets pulling up, the mattress sinking beneath us as we settled in close. My arms wrapped around him naturally, and he held onto me just as instinctively, our breathing syncing without effort.
For a while, we just stayed like that.
Warm. Still. Safe in a way nothing else quite managed to be.
And slowly—without either of us really noticing when—it all faded into sleep.
——
