Ryder leaned against the door of his truck, the glow of the streetlamp casting long shadows on his face. "Look, Agnes, no need for thanks," he said, his voice tinged with the weariness of long hours spent in the lab. "I've put my soul into Nocturne's treatments. I want him to have a normal life more than anyone. But this new dosage... I wasn't part of that decision. I've looked into the ratios, and between you and me, if it were my call, I wouldn't have gone through with it. Just... keep an eye on him, okay? If anything seems off, you call me. Day or night, it doesn't matter."
Agnes felt her heart tighten in her chest. "I will, Ryder. I promise."
With a nod that seemed to carry the weight of the world, Ryder climbed the steps and disappeared into the building.
Agnes lingered at the curb for a moment longer before she started her car and drove away into the night.
The clock on the dashboard read 9:30 PM. These past few days, Jared had been coming home late, swamped with work and meetings that stretched into the wee hours.
She texted him – [When will you be home?]
No reply came, and not wanting to intrude on what she assumed was his busy schedule, she refrained from calling.
Instead, Agnes drove to Tim Tower. It had been a while since her last visit; her own career had picked up pace, demanding most of her time. The building was quieter at this hour, but still ablaze with light in the growing darkness.
She made her way upstairs, intending to surprise Jared by waiting in his office. The secretary's area was deserted, and she tiptoed past, eager to see the look on Jared's face.
The door to Jared's office was ajar, light spilling into the hallway. Agnes paused, her hand on the doorknob, ready to push it open. But then she saw them – Jared and Valeria – standing by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city skyline.
They each held a glass of red wine, not working, just standing shoulder to shoulder, silhouetted against the night.
Agnes' initial impulse to enter faded as she watched them clink glasses, share quiet conversation, and laugh softly. Together, they looked like a couple straight out of a glossy magazine – Jared, the king of his domain with Valeria, his queen, by his side.
A pang of something more intense than jealousy hit Agnes. She realized that Jared had reserved a special place in his heart for Valeria, a place that was off-limits to her. He had told her they were not lovers, not friends, but comrades, allies – a bond that seemed to transcend friendship and encroach upon Agnes' own connection with him.
Valeria had always been upfront, graceful, and accomplished. Agnes knew she shouldn't judge unfairly, but the sight of those two, perfectly matched shadows, made her feel as if a thorn was lodged in her chest.
In the end, Agnes didn't enter the office. She turned and walked away, a silent witness to a scene she was not a part of.
Stepping out of the building, her phone chimed with a message. It was Jared, replying to her earlier text with a terse [I’m working late.]
The words felt like a splash of cold water on her face. Working late? Was sipping wine and engaging in deep conversation his idea of overtime? And was every night of Jared's recent late stays just more of the same?
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