Vivian stood just outside Christopher’s office door, her chest rising and falling with the shallow breaths she couldn’t quite steady.
Her palms were damp, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her sweater as if the fabric could anchor her. She stared at the polished wood in front of her, its imposing presence seeming to mock her hesitation.
For the past week—no, two weeks—she’d been avoiding him. Whenever she saw him in the hallway, she’d find another route, her eyes glued to the floor, her body stiff as she pretended he wasn’t there.
She’d even started skipping lunch in the breakroom, choosing to eat in her car or not at all, just to avoid the possibility of seeing him.
But now, here she was, standing mere inches from the man she had been running from, her body frozen with indeci
