Ethan pov

I buried myself in work like it was the only thing keeping me upright. Meetings blurred into calls, calls into numbers, numbers into strategies I refined with ruthless precision. If I stayed focused, if I stayed sharp, I didn’t have to think about Claire’s distant eyes or the hollow space beside me in bed. Work was clean. Predictable. It didn’t recoil when I reached for it.

I was reviewing quarterly projections when my office door slammed open so hard the glass rattled.

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