The office is quiet again. Not cold. Just heavy like the weight of all the things they almost said years ago.
Mirabel doesn't move from her chair. Her fingers trace the rim of her wine glass, not drinking, just stalling. Watching Janelle like she's trying to solve her. "So this is who you've become?" she murmurs.
Janelle walks to the edge of the desk, leaning forward, eyes sharp but soft. "I became who you made, Mirabel."
Silence. Not because there's nothing to say. But because the truth is hard, and it hurts.
Mirabel stands. Slowly. Walks around the desk until they're close enough for heat to rise between them. "I didn't send Naya to ruin you. I sent her to remind you what it felt like to be touched… worshipped. Because you shut me out, Janelle."
"You broke me before she could touch me," Janelle says, voice almost breaking. "You left. You went on that business trip, never even said goodbye. Just sent a girl to fuck my pain away."
Mirabel's hand comes up, brushes her cheek gently. "And she did. Didn't she?"
Janelle closes her eyes. "Not like you."
Pause. Heavy. Hungry.
Then Mirabel steps forward. Their foreheads touch. Her breath is shaky. "I've hated every second of seeing someone else taste what belonged to me."
"You gave me away."
"No," Mirabel whispers. "I gave up on waiting for you to fight for us."
A kiss would be easy here. But they don't kiss yet. They just hold eye contact drowning slowly in everything they were, and everything they're still terrified to be.
But tonight... just tonight...
Mirabel leans in. Lips brush Janelle's jaw. "One last time…" she breathes. "Maybe."
---
To be continued