Mira woke up to the scent of coffee and the soft rustle of pages turning. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow across Noah's living room. For a fleeting second, it felt like peace.
No chaos. No tension. Just… calm.
She padded quietly to the kitchen, finding him seated at the counter with his reading glasses on—barefoot, hoodie messy, hair tousled. His familiarity both comforted and startled her.
"You always read this early?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
He looked up, smiling softly. "Only when I can't sleep."
"Bad dreams?"
"Just memories."
Their eyes locked. It was unspoken, but both knew their memories weren't always kind.
He gestured to the stool beside him. "Coffee?"
She nodded. "Black. No sugar. You remembered."
"I remember everything about you, Mira."
That made her stomach tighten. How could she ever forget that this man—this steady, quiet man—had once offered her everything, and she walked away?
---
They spent the rest of the morning in comfortable silence, sorting through old books, occasionally laughing at the strange notes Noah had written in the margins.
But even peace could be temporary.
Around noon, Noah received a call. Mira watched his expression shift. Stiff. Guarded.
When he hung up, she asked, "Something wrong?"
He hesitated. "It's about your old firm."
Her blood ran cold. "What happened?"
"They're accusing you of breaching the confidentiality agreement. Apparently, the wrong presentation you delivered—it contained classified elements."
Her face paled. "But I didn't—"
"I know," he said quickly. "It's a set-up. Mira… someone wanted you out. Badly."
Panic bubbled in her chest. "This is my reputation. If they drag my name—"
"Then we fight," Noah interrupted. "Together."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't cry. Not this time. She looked at him—not just as someone she once loved—but someone she could lean on.
"Do you still have the draft I gave you before the switch?" she asked.
He nodded. "Every file. Every version."
A shaky breath escaped her lips. "Then we prove it."
---
That evening, Mira walked through her old apartment building for the first time since everything fell apart. She needed to retrieve her journals—everything she documented during her time at the firm.
And there, standing by the elevator, was someone she never expected to see.
Ibrahim.
Her former co-worker. The one who smiled too easily. Trusted too little.
"Well," he said with a smirk. "Didn't expect you back in this part of town."
"What are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
She narrowed her gaze. "Did you have something to do with the leak?"
He laughed. "You think too highly of yourself, Mira. You think everything revolves around you?"
"No. But sabotage is your specialty, isn't it?"
He took a step closer. "You're a lot of things, Mira. But innocent? That's not one of them."
And just like that, she knew.
She'd been set up from the inside.
And Ibrahim was the start of it all.